


A week at the Humdinger

by AhaMarimbas



Series: A Special Client [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ace-phobia, Asexual Harry Potter, Business Tycoon Harry Potter, Cinemas, Coming Out, Consumerism, Dinner Etiquette, EWE/ Non-epilogue compliant, Epistolary, Fear of Heights, Fine Dining, Fraud, Gillyweed as a recreational drug, Harry doesn't know his way around London, Insecurities, Kebab shops, Law School, Legal issues, Long Distance Relationship, Mock-Trial, Multi, Peer Pressure, Prostitute Draco Malfoy, Quodpot, Quodpot Tournament, Rita Skeeter can go fuck herself, Sexual Assault, Shame, Shopping, Verbal Abuse, Wealth, being outed, giving directions, polyamourus relationship, queer issues, rape/ Non-Con, rude language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AhaMarimbas/pseuds/AhaMarimbas
Summary: What happens when Europe's richest business tycoon asks London's poorest (probably) prostitute for directions? An adventure at the Humdinger, and a love story to last the ages. Or at least the week.





	1. Welcome to the Humdinger

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many people without whom this story would never have seen the light of day! 
> 
> First off, a huge thank you to A for all their advice and encouragement while I was working on this! 
> 
> Another huge thank you goes to D for their meticulous beta work! Their efforts went a long way to making this story actually readable!
> 
> Finally, infinite thank yous to the Mods who not only created this amazing fest, but who were sooooo incredibly patient and generous with all my extentions and issues!
> 
> The Harry Potter Universe and it's characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I was just curious what would happen when I tossed them in a blender with the movie Pretty Woman (Gary Marshall, 1995), which also does not belong to me. 
> 
> Please heed the warnings and tags before reading, friends!

Harry cursed as he turned the corner to find himself on yet another unfamiliar street. He hated the high society parties he was always forced to attend, and this one had been no exception. As usual, people had been fawning over him,  _ the Saviour _ of the wizarding world. The ballroom it was held in was posh and upscale, and everything about it made his skin crawl. 

So of course, as soon as he could, he had told his business partner, Michael, that he was leaving. He had assumed he could walk back to his hotel, allowing the cold night air to calm his thoughts, but of course, in this new and unfamiliar part of London, he’d gotten lost. Luckily, this street seemed to have two people standing at the end of it. Hoping he could ask for directions, he approached the pair, only to realise that he was walking in on a small man dressed in a scandalous costume giving a much larger man a blowjob. He turned to leave, figuring he could just try another route, when the larger man groaned. At the sound of coins hitting the ground, Harry turned back to see the larger man walking away. The smaller one scrambled to pick up the Galleons. 

Harry hesitated for a moment, but it was a chilly night and he really was tired. He stepped forward as the man straightened up. He was just wondering how he could wear nothing but fishnets and a corset in this cold when the man turned.

_ Draco Malfoy. _ Harry hadn’t seen the prat since the days after the battle of Hogwarts. He was stunned into silence as he took in Malfoy’s thin body, and tried to digest the fact that Malfoy was here, on the street, giving blowjobs in exchange for money. He suddenly realised he was staring, and quickly brought his eyes up to find Malfoy smirking at him. The smirk didn’t have the same bite as it did in school though. 

“Like what you see, Potter?” Malfoy drawled. “I can be all yours tonight, for the right price.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Malfoy stepped closer and rubbed a cold foot up Harry’s trouser leg. He was stunned to realise that Malfoy wasn’t even wearing shoes.

“Are you surprised to see me in a corset? I can take it off if you’d like. Give you a show. Or is it my mouth that you find enticing? Would you like my soft, warm lips wrapped around your thick, heavy cock?”

Harry couldn’t believe it. Here he was, lost somewhere in London, with Draco Malfoy of all people, propositioning him.

“I’m not interested in, um, buying your, er, services, Malfoy. I was just hoping you might be able to give me directions to the Humdinger Hotel?”

He might have imagined it, but Malfoy looked simultaneously disappointed and relieved. 

“It’s a bit complicated from here. You have to follow Chesham road up to Lindemere street, and then loop around to East Dilley court, and— ”

“I’m never going to remember all this,” Harry groaned. “Is there anywhere nearby with a floo?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Nothing in this neighbourhood’s open this late.”

They stood awkwardly in silence for a moment before Malfoy had an idea. “I can walk you there,” he offered. Harry was just marvelling at how generous Malfoy seemed to have become when he added, “for 3 Galleons.”

“You’re kidding, right? You want 3 Galleons to show me the way back to my hotel?”

Malfoy shrugged. “It would take a little more than the amount of time I would spend giving you a blowjob, so I’m asking the same price. Or you can wander around looking for it on your own. Have a good night, Potter.”

“Wait,” Harry cried just as Malfoy turned away. He really wanted to get back, and with the way business was booming, 3 Galleons were nothing to him. Clearly, Malfoy needed it a lot more than him. They’d all heard about the sanctions the ministry had placed on the Malfoys all those years ago, an impossible amount of money to be repaid.

“Fine, I’ll pay you to walk me back. How far is it?”

“Usually about 15 minutes, but I know a shortcut that would make it 10. The shortcut is likely to ruin your trousers though, so we can go the usual route.”

Harry nodded. He’d never hear the end of it from Hermione if he ruined yet another suit. They set off in silence, winding through the streets of London. After about 3 minutes of walking, Harry remembered that Malfoy wasn’t even wearing shoes. He had grabbed a worn out robe and a small pouch of coins from a nook before they left, but that seemed to be all he had. 

“Aren’t you cold without shoes?” Harry asked. Malfoy glanced down at his feet as if he had forgotten about shoes at all.

“A bit, but I’m used to it,” he said softly. 

“Why don’t you cast an impervious on your soles?” Harry asked. 

Malfoy didn’t quite meet his eye as he mumbled, “I don’t have a wand.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn’t known that. No wonder Malfoy was out on the streets offering blowjobs for money. 

“Lift your feet,” he said, pulling out his wand. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him, before slowly lifting his left foot.

“Impervious,” Harry said confidently, before gesturing at the other foot. Malfoy took a few ginger steps on his newly protected feet, before nodding. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, continuing on his way. Harry hurried to catch up, casting a warming charm over them as he did. He noticed Malfoy relax ever so slightly and wondered how long it had been since the poor man had felt properly warm.

After another 5 minutes of walking, Harry started to recognise certain landmarks as they passed. He vaguely remembered having dinner with their newest clients at that Italian restaurant, and he was sure he had picked his suit up from that dry cleaner two days ago when the head of the hotel’s laundry department had fallen ill. He didn’t say much to Malfoy though, not wanting to be left alone and risk getting lost again.

Finally, he saw the looming golden arches of the hotel’s entryway at the end of the street. He reached into his pocket as Malfoy stopped walking.

“Here,” Harry said, shoving what was definitely more than 3 Galleons into his hands. “Thanks again for your help.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened at the sight of the money, and for a moment Harry wondered if he had expected to get ripped off. Finally, Malfoy nodded and turned away.

It suddenly struck Harry that he had no idea how far Malfoy still had to travel to get home for the night. With such a thin robe and no shoes, it could be a horrible journey.

“Malfoy!” Harry called after him. When Malfoy turned back to him, Harry suddenly noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“Do you want to use my floo to get home?” he asked. He was surprised to see Malfoy laugh.

“Do you think the Aurors stationed at the entrance will allow me within 10 meters of the front door?” Malfoy pointed out. Harry frowned. Malfoy’s robes, as shabby as they might look, did a decent job of covering his rather revealing outfit. Either way, the Aurors shouldn’t be judging people by what they looked like.

“They will if you’re my guest,” Harry said confidently. He held out his arm, watching the indecision war across Draco’s face. “Come upstairs with me.”

It wasn’t until Malfoy’s eyes widened that Harry realised how that suggestion must have sounded. He cursed himself for his carelessness, but while he didn’t plan to take advantage of him, Harry figured he could at least give the man a warm cup of coffee before letting him use the floo in his suite.

Malfoy quietly took hold of Harry’s arm, allowing himself to be guided into the hotel lobby. He kept his head down, but Harry noticed a fair number of odd stares from the Aurors and the night staff. Luckily, it was late enough that there were very few other guests around, and no press in sight. 

“Good evening Mr. Potter,” the elevator attendant greeted, pressing the button for the penthouse. The three of them stood in awkward silence on the long ride up. The doors finally opened out onto a now familiar marble hallway.

“Thank you, John,” Harry said with a nod, handing the attendant a few Galleons before leading Malfoy over to his suite. He placed his palm to the door, unlocking it with his magical signature.

He heard Malfoy gasp as they stepped inside. He tried to remember how he had felt the first time he had seen the suite, many years ago. He had to admit, it was quite lavish. It had been decorated as part of one of the most sought after hotels in the country, with Luna’s eccentric but tasteful style. 

He had been surprised all those years ago when Luna had decided to open a boutique hotel in London. He had, of course, refused to stay anywhere else, and on his frequent business trips to London, he became used to staying in this suite. He had eventually just bought it, figuring it would make a nice city home. Nowadays, he almost spent more time here than he did in his mansion back in Godric’s Hollow.

He turned back to his guest to find Malfoy still standing in the entryway, looking around wide-eyed at the suite.

“Please, come in. Would you like a drink?” Harry turned towards the small kitchen. His food was usually sent up from the hotel kitchens, but he did have a very fancy coffee machine and a small fridge of snacks for when he didn’t quite want to order room service.

“Um, if you’re offering,” Malfoy said quietly, sitting primly on the edge of the leather sectional. Harry pressed a few buttons on the coffee machine, deciding at the last moment that it really was quite late for caffeine. It was a good thing there was a hot chocolate option, he thought happily. While waiting for the drinks to finish, he opened the fridge to find a small platter of fruits and truffles.

He found Malfoy looking curiously through a magazine as he levitated the drinks and snacks back into the sitting room. Taking a seat on the armchair across from Malfoy, he took a sip of his drink.

“What is this?” Malfoy asked, staring into his cup. He sniffed it once.

“It’s hot chocolate,” Harry offered. “Also help yourself to the truffles. They’re made in the kitchens downstairs; the staff here have never disappointed me before.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy said timidly. He took a few sips of his drink before putting it down on one of the monogrammed leather coasters. “Look, Potter, I need to lay down some ground rules. I can do whatever takes your fancy, but I don’t kiss on the mouth. I have muggle condoms since I can’t cast any protection spells, but if you’d rather a spell you can— ”

“Malfoy. Relax. I really did just invite you up for a cup of hot chocolate.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t quite believe Harry. After a moment of glaring, he shifted a bit, picking up his mug again.

“So, um, what do you do these days?” Malfoy asked. “Whatever it is, you’re clearly good at it.”

“I, uh, I dabble in a lot of things. It’s a mix of lucky investments and being so famous that no one ever says no to me, I guess. I have construction companies, investment firms, a couple of luxury brands. Honestly, everything took off so fast, I barely registered what was happening.”

“Well, you’re clearly doing well for yourself,” Malfoy said, gesturing around. Harry’s gaze shifted to the side table, where he had left the coming week’s itinerary. He groaned internally as he remembered his conversation with Michael yesterday.

_ “Harry, I want to start bringing Jacob as my guest to various events.” _

_ “Michael, that’s great! You two seem to be hitting it off really well!” _

_ Michael nodded. “The thing is, if I’m bringing Jacob, I can’t be your date as well. You need to start finding a date to bring to these things.” _

Harry had thrown a fit worthy of a five year old, but in the end, Hermione had agreed — having a date on his arm kept the crazy fans at bay. The only problem was that meeting people these days was notoriously impossible for Harry. Everyone was either too excited about dating “ _ The Great _ Harry Potter” or only interested in him for his wealth. Glancing back at the itinerary, he realised he had to find someone for tomorrow’s dinner with the owner of Elvinshire Group of Companies. 

A small cough from across the hall pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Um, thank you, Potter, for your hospitality. If you don’t need me for anything more though…” he looked up as Malfoy stood, his body kicking into action a moment later and standing as well.

“Is it still okay with you if I use your floo?” Malfoy asked, gesturing at the fire. Harry nodded, but just as Malfoy was stepping forward, a thought occurred to Harry.

“Wait!” Malfoy turned back to him, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“I, uh, I need help. And I think you might be able to help me.”

“What could I possibly help you with?” Malfoy asked incredulously. Harry noticed his eyes slide briefly down to his crotch, and blushed.

“No, not that,” he said quickly. “I, um, I’m in town for one more week, and there are a lot of fancy events and meetings that I need to attend. I, um, it’s usually safer if I bring a date along, to discourage any fans.”

A look of understanding dawned on Malfoy’s face.

“You want me to accompany you?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d know all the etiquette and stuff for fancy dinners and parties. And you won’t spend the whole evening fawning over me like I’m some kind of hero.”

“You  _ are _ a hero,” Malfoy said pointedly.

Harry sighed. “I disagree, but the point is you won’t treat me like one.”

Malfoy was quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t have much in terms of formal wear,” Malfoy said slowly.

“I can get you whatever you need,” Harry said quickly. “Clothes, grooming products.”

“Potter, did you consider at all how people will react to you bringing a Malfoy along as your date? There’s a reason I suck cocks for a living. Most people in the wizarding world have no idea what I do these days; they just assume I fell off the map. But that doesn’t mean they’ll be happy to see me back.”

Harry grimaced. He hated the lingering prejudice from the war.

“I don’t care what people will say. If you’re worried about your safety, there will be Aurors escorting us everywhere. I’d be really grateful if you agreed to help.”

He held his breath as Malfoy seemed to consider this, but thankfully, after a moment, he nodded. Harry sat back down on the couch, and as Malfoy joined him, those dark grey eyes cautious and calculating, Harry wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


Draco couldn’t help wondering just what he’d gotten himself into. He had just agreed to spend a week as Harry Potter’s escort. He usually made a point of avoiding wizarding society. The few magical clients he had seen recently were the seedy type who were unlikely to spread rumours that Draco Malfoy was a prostitute. 

But this was a whole new ballgame. Harry Potter was  _ the _ biggest celebrity in all of Europe. Looking around the hotel suite he was in, Draco had no doubt that the rumours of him being the richest man in the country were absolutely true. 

He knew he should continue the conversation. They hadn’t discussed a price at all, and Draco was still wildly unclear of what would be expected of him. But this had been awkward enough, and all Draco wanted to do at this point was wash off that night’s clients and crawl into bed. He’d already enjoyed a cup of hot chocolate, a few strawberries, and a handcrafted truffle, three things he hadn’t even seen since the end of the war. He shouldn’t be pushing his luck any more.

“Well, I’ve trespassed on your hospitality long enough, Potter,” he said primly, pushing himself off the couch. “When would you like me to return tomorrow?”

Potter furrowed his brow. “Oh, um, I was actually wondering if you’d stay here?”

Draco didn’t want to believe his ears. Had Potter just invited him to stay here? In the penthouse suite, at  _ the Humdinger _ ? Clearly, he had been silent for too long though because Potter seemed to be backpedalling. 

“Or you don’t have to. I’m sorry, I know you must have your own life outside of your, erm, work.”

It took all of Draco’s will power to resist rolling his eyes. Clearly, Potter had no idea what kind of squalor Draco now lived in. Why would he opt to go back to his cold, mouldy apartment in Knockturn Alley, where he had to bathe with frigid water in his sink and make do with thin blankets on the floor when the alternative was to stay here? Heck, even if Potter made him sleep on the floor here, it would be a million times better than his own place.

“No, I’ll uh, I’ll stay. Whatever you want.”

Potter nodded. “Um, I’m pretty sure the guest room should be ready, you must be tired. Here, I’ll show you where it is.”

Confused, Draco followed him into a room off to the side. He had thought that Potter would want him in his own bed — he was a prostitute after all. The guest room was as beautiful as the rest of the apartment, a spacious room with a desk, a walk-in closet, two armchairs in front of another fireplace, and what looked like a very soft bed right in the middle of the room.

“Pippy!” Potter called, and an elf popped up beside them. 

“Pippy, can you find some pyjamas and robes for tomorrow for Malf — er, Draco here?”

The elf nodded and disappeared with a pop. A moment later she returned with a stack of clothes and a set of fluffy white towels.

“Erm, your bathroom is through there,” Potter said, pointing out a door next to the closet. “Feel free to call Pippy if you need anything else. Erm, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Potter,” Draco replied. It didn’t take long for him to shower and get ready for bed, despite the temptation to spend the rest of his life standing under the warm water. He’d forgotten how good it could feel on sore muscles. He’d also found a pot of moisturizer in the washroom and had decided to use it on his calloused feet. At the sight of the rough skin, he decided that the first thing he would buy with Potter’s money was a pair of shoes.

It was that thought that comforted him as he drifted off to sleep, still wondering what on earth he’d gotten himself into.


	2. Brookside Custom Formalwear

Draco woke to the sun streaming in through a large picture window he hadn’t noticed the night before. He rolled over, not wanting to move from the soft duvet that was keeping him warm. It only took a moment for him to remember why he was here though, and the thought was enough to get him to sit up. He looked around and spied the clothes Pippy had brought in last night. With a sigh, he slipped out from under the warm duvet and headed off to the bathroom to get dressed.

They were simple robes, but of much better quality than anything Draco had owned in the last seven years. He took a moment to really look at himself in the mirror. His hair was long overdue for some professional attention, falling at different lengths around his head. He looked as tired as he felt, the dark circles obvious under his eyes. With a sigh, he realised there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

He wandered out into the main hall of the suite to find Potter sitting at the mahogany dining table, reading through a stack of parchment and munching absently on a golden croissant. His eyes widened at the sight of all the food spread across the table. 

“Um, good morning,” he said hesitantly, not wanting to startle Potter. Potter looked up and smiled at him, and Merlin, it was a beautiful smile. 

“Morning. Come sit, help yourself. I think the elves went a little overboard when I told them there was a second guest here.”

“Thanks,” Draco said, sitting carefully across from Potter. He placed his napkin in his lap, before staring across the table, wondering what he should eat.

“Can Pippy get sir something to drink?” came a squeaky voice from beside him. He turned to find the same elf from last night staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Um, a cup of tea? Please?” Pippy nodded and with a snap of her fingers, a steaming cup of tea appeared on the table in front of Draco.

“What can Pippy be serving sir for breakfast?” the elf squeaked again. Draco hesitated for a moment. It had been so long since he’d had an elf serve him, he’d almost forgotten that it was quite normal among wealthier households.

“I, um, I’m not sure,” he mumbled, still at a loss among all the choices.

“May Pippy recommend the eggs benedict with asparagus and prosciutto? It is Ms. Luna’s favourite.”

Draco nodded, glancing up at Potter. The man seemed absorbed in his parchments, but there was a small smile on his face. 

“I’ve been staying here for almost 7 years now, and I’m still not used to having them serve me,” Potter said once Pippy had disappeared. “Sometimes I miss reaching across the table to butter my own toast.”

“You can instruct the elves not to serve you, you know. We did that at the Manor, they would simply lay out breakfast and leave.”

“I know, and sometimes I do, but everyone always insists that I should have the best of everything since I can afford it. So the elves serve me.”

Draco stared at his plate, wondering when on earth Harry Potter had become like his father.

“How did you sleep last night?” Potter asked, closing his folder and putting it on the chair next to him.

“Very well, thank you.”

“That’s good. We didn’t get to talk much last night, but I wanted to give you a copy of the schedule for this week.” He levitated a sheet of parchment over to Draco. It turned out to be a schedule, and Draco was alarmed to see that it looked quite packed.

“Most of that is my usual work, meetings and such. You don’t have to be there for any of that. The events I’d like you to be at are the ones highlighted in green.”

Draco looked back down at the parchment and sighed in relief as he realised the green slots were mostly just dinners, though there were a few lunches, and what seemed to be a garden party here and there. He spared a moment to sympathise with Potter’s ridiculous schedule before his host spoke again.

“The dinner tonight is extremely important. It’s with the head of Elvenshire Group of Companies. My business partner Michael and his partner Jacob will also be there.”

“It’s at Periwinkle,” Draco read off the schedule. He’d walked past the place once, but had no idea what to expect from it.

“Yes. I’m going to be out all day, but I’ll be back around six to pick you up. I’ll leave you some money, and you can go get yourself clothes and whatever else you need for tonight. Does that sound okay?”

Draco nodded around a mouthful of asparagus. He could handle a bit of robe shopping.

“Okay, well, I’d better head out. You won’t be able to floo back in here, the wards are too tight, but the reception has been notified that you’re a guest so there shouldn’t be any issue with you just walking back in. The door is keyed to your magical signature too, you just have to touch it to unlock it.”

That was a surprise. Did Potter really trust him to have access to his rooms? He decided not to question it. Potter tightened his tie before opening a drawer in the hall. He dropped a rather large pouch of money on the table next to Draco.

“Do you think 300 will be enough for whatever you need for tonight?” he asked, biting his lip. Draco’s eyes widened at the sight of so much money. Clearly Potter got people to do his shopping for him and had no idea what things were actually worth these days.

“Um, yeah, that should be perfect,” Draco squeaked. 

He was still staring at the sack of Galleons ten minutes after Potter had left. His mind was buzzing with things to do for the evening. First, he had to find out what the dress code at this restaurant was. Then he had to find appropriate robes, matching shoes, and hopefully get a haircut. If he had time, maybe he could even get a manicure. He grimaced at his dirty, shapeless nails. At least he’d been able to keep them short, having stolen a pair of Muggle nail clippers from a client once.

Draco lingered a bit after breakfast, wandering out onto the balcony to find the sun shining brightly. He took in the incredible view, remembering a time when Potter’s life was the one he himself had expected to be living: successful business tycoon, living in the penthouse of the most famous hotel in London with an endless view of the world.

“Is sir having more breakfast, or should Pippy be cleaning up?”

Draco turned away from the view as the elf’s voice brought him back to reality. 

“You can clean up. I should be heading out.” Pippy nodded, and with a snap of her fingers, the table was clear. She was about to vanish herself when Draco thought of something.

“Pippy! You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get some shoes, would you?”

Pippy considered him for a moment. She snapped her fingers again, and a dish towel from the kitchenette was suddenly transfigured into a simple pair of shoes.

“Sir must be finding real shoes soon. Transfiguring shoes is not easy, and these will not last all day.”

“Thank you, Pippy. I’ll make the shoes my priority.”

She nodded and disappeared. Not wanting to be caught out on the street in broad daylight without shoes, he hurried to leave as well. How difficult could it be to find a pair of shoes?

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


Four hours later, Draco wandered back into the hotel lobby, frustrated and worried. He had spent the entire morning wandering London in search of a shop that would sell him formal robes, but every wizarding establishment he’d tried had recognised him and refused to sell him so much as a button. Hungry, tired and discouraged, he had decided to return to the hotel and try to think of a new game plan. 

He kept his head down as he passed the Aurors stationed at the door, though he could tell the other guests in the lobby were staring at him. He was almost at the elevator when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

Draco felt dread creeping into his gut as he turned to find himself face to face with one of the Aurors.  _ Now, what did I do? _ he wondered, following the tall man into an office beside the reception desk. He was directed to sit in a stiff looking chair, before the Auror turned and left.

Draco barely had time to wonder what was happening when the door opened again.

“Draco. How lovely to see you again.”

“Luna.”

“I must say, I’m surprised to see you here,” she said, her voice as floaty as ever. “I understand you’re Harry’s guest.”

Draco nodded. He had never been able to read Luna very well, despite the fact that they had both become quite close during the war when she had been held captive at the manor. He cringed as he realised that was probably her last memory of him.

“Yes, I’m, er, staying with him, um, for the week.”

“I see.” They sat in silence for a moment, before Luna spoke again.

“Draco, I hate to have to say this, but— ”

“You don’t want me here,” he said blandly. Luna frowned.

“ _ I _ am more than happy to have you as my guest, Draco. You’re the reason I made it out of that manor alive, and even if you weren’t, I would do anything for Harry, and clearly, he does want you here.”

“Okay, so your other guests are uncomfortable having me here.”

“I… yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to kick you out. Something tells me they’ll be a lot less worried about a Draco Malfoy who doesn’t look like he just came out of the war.”

“I don’t— ”

“Draco, your hair is a disaster, you’re walking as if your feet are falling off, and you seem to have a permanently worried look on your face. What’s bothering you?”

Draco sighed, wondering how much he should tell her.

“My hair is cut at haphazard angles because a…  _ previous client  _ got drunk and started hexing me. I barely made it out of there alive, but one of the hexes caught my hair. I barely have the money to pay rent these days, so there was nothing to spare for a visit to a hairdresser, or shoes for that matter, which is why these transfigured dish towels are causing such a problem for me. Wearing shoes for the first time in 7 years causes blisters horrid enough to rival Voldemort himself. Now that I have the money,” he tossed the smaller sack of galleons on the table — he had decided that carrying 300 with him all day was too risky, “no one wants to sell their products to a Malfoy. I just got a dream job — or at least, a dream job for someone like me — and Potter’s going to throw me back onto the streets tonight because I can’t even buy formal robes.”

“Oh, is that all?” Luna said, her face lighting up once more. “I know where you should go for robes.” She handed him a business card for a place called Brookside custom formal wear. “The owner is a dear friend of mine, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you out. You can even use my personal floo to get there.”

Draco sighed. He had been rejected by so many stores already. What’s one more, he figured, as he thanked Luna and stepped into the floo.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


Brookside seemed to be a small boutique, tastefully decorated, with a comfortable seating area. He turned to the desk, where a well-dressed lady with jet black hair was digging through a box with her back turned to him.

“Excuse me,” he tried. “I was sent to you by, um, Luna Lovegood— ” the lady whirled around at the mention of Luna’s name, and Draco gasped.

“Draco?” she said in wonder, eyes wide. Draco couldn’t help the tears of relief as they rolled down his cheeks. 

“Pansy!” he cried as she ran around the counter and pulled him into a tight hug. “Oh dear, I’ve missed you.”

“What are you doing here? Why do you look so tired? Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story,” he sighed. “First of all, I have to ask, are you able to sell me appropriate robes for dinner at Periwinkle? I need them for tonight.”

Pansy nodded, summoning a measuring tape and guiding him to a raised platform in front of a mirror.

“You talk, I’ll measure. And start from the beginning,” she said, and as she started to record his height, he did just that.

As she took his measurements, and then started comparing fabrics to his skin tone, his whole story poured out of his mouth. He told her about those first days after the trials, and how a few of the other prostitutes on Balsam Lane had shown him how to attract clients while staying safe. He told her about his miserable life of squalor, how he barely had enough money to eat most days. Then he told her about Potter.

“So just as I’m ready to call it a night, Harry fucking Potter walks up to me. I figured I could take one more client— ” he stopped to glare at Pansy when she snorted. “He’s fucking fit, Pansy. If I wasn’t so broke, I’d let him fuck me for free.”

“So how did propositioning Potter lead to you buying robes for dinner at the hottest restaurant in town?”

“That’s the thing. He didn’t want me for sex. He paid me 15 Galleons just to walk him back to his hotel because he was lost.”

Pansy looked up from the bolt of fabric she was holding, one eyebrow raised. “I know he’s rich, but he really has money like that to spare?”

“Oh Pansy, you should see the suite he’s living in. It’s absolutely beautiful, and it oozes money.”

“Wait, he only paid you to walk him home. How do you know what his suite looks like?”

“I was getting there. So as I was leaving, he asks me up for a drink. Normally, in my line of work, that’s code for  _ I want to fuck you but I’m too proper to say it _ , so I went along with it. Half an hour later, just as I’m giving it up as a bad job, he asks me to be his date to a bunch of formal affairs throughout the week, until he returns to Godric’s Hollow.”

“Ah. Hence the need for formal wear,” Pansy mumbled, her mouth full of pins.

“Exactly! He’s paying for everything, and he’s even letting me stay with him for the week. It was like a dream come true, until this morning when I had to go shopping. I got thrown out of 26 different stores Pansy, 26! I really wish I had known earlier that you owned this place. I haven’t even tried a salon yet, though Merlin knows I can’t show up to dinner with hair like this.”

“Millie owns a salon down the road,” Pansy informed him, rolling her tape measure up. “Why don’t you head down there now, she can fix your hair and your nails, maybe give you a bit of makeup for those dark circles of yours. In the meantime, I have the perfect robes in mind for you, but they’ll need a bit of alteration.”

Draco nodded. It was reassuring to know there were still people around that he could trust.

“What would I do without you Pansy?” he sighed. 

“I don’t even want to think about it,” she chuckled. “Did you say you needed other robes for this week as well?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I brought enough money with me for all of them though.”

Pansy waved him off. “Give me the list, I’ll see what I can do for you, and write up a bill. You can get your Potter to pay it.”

“He’s not  _ my _ Potter,” Draco huffed, but he handed over his schedule anyway. Suddenly, his feet felt cold.

“Oh fuck,” he sighed as he looked down. He had forgotten about the transfigured shoes, which were now dish towels again.

“Draco, you don’t even have real shoes?” she demanded.

“Can’t afford them. Potter’s elf transfigured these for me this morning, and to be honest, wearing shoes for the first time in 7 years hurt like a bitch.”

“Seven yea — you know what, I’m not even going to think about it. Put these on,” she said handing him a pair of white trainers. “I’ll put gel soles in your dress shoes for tonight, and you make sure Millie gives your feet a nice soak just now.”

Draco obeyed, slipping into what seemed to be her gym shoes and giving her a hug. 

“Now, off with you, I want to see a whole new Draco when you get back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


Three hours later, Draco stepped through the floo into Luna’s office, carrying six different garment bags, and two more shopping bags that had undetectable extension charms on them.

“Ooh, that’s much better,” Luna sighed, taking the bags from him and throwing them carelessly on a chair. She twirled him around, admiring his new haircut before bringing his hands up for her inspection.

“I’m guessing Pansy sent you to Millie. Oh, they both did such a wonderful job.”

Draco had to agree. Thanks to his old friends, he felt like a whole new person. Millie had cut his hair shorter than it had ever been before, but she had styled it beautifully. She had also had her girls give him an incredible foot massage, which he was certain included a bit of Murtlap Essence. Pansy, however, had been the real star that afternoon. She had dressed him in simple, dark navy robes, but they had the most flattering cut he’d ever seen in his life. He had been surprised at how formal they were, but she had assured him that for Periwinkle, he’d need it. 

“Thank you, Luna. You saved me tonight. Who knows what I would have done if you hadn’t sent me to Pansy.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just go straight to her. Did you not know she was a designer?”

Draco hung his head. “I haven’t been in touch with anyone in years. There wasn’t any money to spare for parchment and ink, considering most days I couldn’t even afford to eat.”

Luna smiled sadly. “I’m glad Harry ran into you. I hope after this week you’ll at least be able to afford ink and parchment.”

Dread seeped back into his heart as he realised they still hadn’t discussed how much Potter would pay him for this week. He didn’t expect Potter to be stingy at all, but a tiny part of him couldn’t help worrying that this week was going to leave him even worse for the wear.

Quelling that thought for now, he thanked Luna again and made his way upstairs with his shopping. He had barely put everything away in the closet when Potter returned.

“Are you ready to go?” Potter asked, his nose buried in another sheet of parchment. 

“Yes, just about,” Draco replied. He frowned slightly at Potter’s business attire. “Are you going to take some time to get ready?” 

Potter finally looked up from his parchment and stared. He seemed surprised at Draco’s attire.

“I thought it was semi-formal,” he mumbled, pushing past Draco into his own room. Draco just stood there, unsure whether he was expected to respond or not. 5 minutes later, Potter marched back out into the hall, now wearing a much more formal set of charcoal grey robes. 

“Is this appropriate?” Potter asked, holding his arms out.

“Better than the office robes. Potter, what exactly did you think semi-formal meant?”

“Um, half casual, half formal? I figured the robes I wore to the office would be okay. Also, you should call me Harry. It would look weird if my date calls me by my surname. Are you okay with me calling you Draco?”

Draco nodded, taking in Pot — no,  _ Harry’s _ rambling. Being as nervous as he was, of course, Draco ended up rambling in response.

“Semi-formal attire was invented by Edward VII, who didn’t want to wear full formal attire to dinner with a New York couple, James and Cora Potter.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say that semi-formal attire was invented at dinner with my father?”

It took all of Draco’s willpower not to roll his eyes. “Not your father, just a man with the same name who lived at least 100 years before him. Anyways, your family is descended from the Peverells, I’m quite sure there’s no connection.” 

“Funny enough, I did know that. Anyway, shall we get going?”

Draco nodded as Potter stepped into the floo. Merlin, it was promising to be a long night.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


Harry winced as he glanced around the restaurant. Of course, Michael would choose yet another fancy place for dinner. He spotted three forks in a place setting at the nearest table, and if Draco hadn’t been stepping out of the floo at that very moment, he was sure he would have turned around and gone right back through.

“This looks nice,” Draco commented, looking around. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the hostess approached them.

“Good evening Mr. Potter, and welcome to Periwinkle. Your table is ready for you, and Mr. Corner is already seated. Right this way please.”

They followed the hostess to a table near the back, and Harry was glad to note that it seemed fairly private. 

“Harry, right on time. Robertson should be here any moment.” Harry nodded at Michael, pulling out his chair. He moved to sit down, and almost collided with Draco.

“Sorry,” Draco mumbled, stepping back. “I was taught that it’s customary to sit from the left and rise from the right, but I don’t go out much. I’m not sure if it’s changed in recent times.”

“It hasn’t,” Jacob offered from Malfoy’s other side. “Harry’s just woefully uncultured. I’m Jacob, by the way, Jacob Gomes.”

“Oh, uh, Draco Malfoy,” Draco offered, reaching across and shaking Jacob’s hand.

“Malfoy,” Michael nodded, turning to raise an eyebrow at Harry, who merely shrugged.

Though he didn’t say anything more on the subject, Michael kept giving Harry looks throughout dinner from across the table. Next to him, Draco kept giving him subtle hints ranging from which fork to use for which course, to the angle at which his napkin should be placed. Aside from saving Harry’s dignity at least five times over the course of the meal, Draco stayed very quiet, speaking only when spoken to, which wasn’t often.

Robertson and his son were thankfully pleasant company, and though they couldn’t quite settle the terms of the deal, Harry could confidently say that they had made progress. He knew Robertson couldn’t afford to hold out much longer. The old man was just putting up a front.

“Well, it’s approaching my bedtime gentlemen, you’ll have to forgive an old codger.” Everyone else stood as Mr. Robertson prepared to leave. 

“Thank you for joining us tonight, Mr. Robertson,” Harry said genuinely. “It was a pleasure to be able to chat with you outside of a boardroom.”

Mr. Robertson smiled as he reached out and shook Harry’s hand. “Same to you, Harry. You have a good night lads.”

Harry and Michael walked the Robertsons to the floo. Once they had disappeared, he turned towards the table to see Draco and Jacob chatting easily. He was glad to see them getting along, especially since they’d be seeing a lot more of each other this week.

“Um, Harry? What’s going on?”

Harry turned to Michael, not quite sure what he was referring to.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why is Malfoy here?”

“He’s my date,” Harry shrugged. 

Michael sighed. “Harry, are you acting out or something because I told you I can’t be your date anymore?”

“What?” Harry actually laughed. “Michael, this has nothing to do with you. I, um, ran into Draco last night, and we hung out for a bit. Then I invited him to join me tonight as well.”

“You’ve always been a shit liar, Harry.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?” Harry frowned. 

“No one’s seen or heard from Malfoy in years, and yet you just  _ happen _ to run into him last night?”

“Don’t ask me why weird stuff always happen to me.”

“I don’t trust him,” Michael said, frowning in the direction of the table. “He found you for a reason. I’m sure he’s up to something.”

Harry was suddenly reminded of many instances back in sixth year of watching the Marauder’s Map late into the night, staring obsessively at Malfoy’s tiny black dot. He shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh.

“I don’t think so,” he finally said. At that moment Draco looked up to where they were standing and smiled. Harry found it quite easy to smile back. 

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


“Thanks for your help tonight,” Harry said as he loosened his tie and flopped onto the couch. Draco sat carefully across from him, still a little unsure how he was supposed to behave when it was just the two of them.

“Were you able to get an outfit for tomorrow’s lunch as well?” 

Draco nodded, figuring now was as good a time as any.

“I have what I need for the entire week. I was just a bit short for it all though, so Pansy sent a bill.”

He hoped Pot —  _ Harry _ wouldn’t be too upset at having to pay extra, or that Draco had purchased from a fellow Slytherin. 

“Oh, I was wondering if you’d go to her. I’m guessing Luna sent you?”

Draco nodded, unsure how else to respond. How did Harry know what Pansy was up to these days?

“Anything to help her girlfriends,” Harry smiled, getting up from the couch and padding into the kitchenette. Draco really hoped he would be offered another cup of hot chocolate. He’d already had the most delicious meal at the restaurant. He was actually feeling quite full, not being used to eating so much rich food, but he couldn’t resist the cup of hot chocolate Harry offered him a minute later. He took a generous sip, before continuing their conversation.

“I didn’t know they were dating. Wait, did you say girlfriends, in the plural?”

Harry nodded. “Luna’s dating Pansy and Millicent.”

“How long have they been together?”

“I’d say about four years now.” Draco’s heart sank at the realisation that he had spent the whole afternoon with Pansy, and yet he’d barely asked her anything about herself. He decided on the spot that he’d make a point of checking in with her at least once a week from now on.

“And now they sneakily recommend each other’s businesses to their friends and clients.” Draco had zoned out for a moment while Pot — Harry was talking, but he relaxed when he realised they were still on the subject of Luna, Pansy and Millicent.

“Well, I’m glad to have found Pansy, otherwise I might have had to show up to dinner in that corset tonight.”

He had meant it as a joke but looked up to find Harry frowning at him.

“I was kidding,” he added hastily. “I know better than that.” 

This week had better not come to an early end simply because of his awful sense of humour.

“Why wouldn’t you have been able to buy robes from anyone else?” Harry asked. Draco took another sip of his hot chocolate, considering his answer. 

“I tried, but I guess seven years isn’t enough for most businesses to forgive everything I did,” Draco said softly. He felt the sofa dip next to him and looked up to find himself looking straight at Potter’s mesmerising eyes. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Harry said angrily. “You were just born into the wrong side of the war.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Draco sighed. “The important thing is that I found Pansy’s shop, and the dinner tonight seemed to go well. A few more dinners worth of coaching and we’ll make a gentleman out of you yet.”

Thankfully, Potter did smile at that one. “It seems like we made progress with Robertson tonight. The stubborn bastard refuses to sell, but we’ll wear him down.”

“I’m sure you’ll do it. He seemed to warm up to you tonight. I’m surprised to say you seem to be very charismatic when you want to be.”

Harry snorted. “You think I’m charismatic? You clearly haven’t been hanging out with very engaging people lately.”

“No, I haven’t,” Draco conceded. “But that doesn’t mean you’re any less impressive. I can see why you’ve become such a successful businessman.”

“Like I said, lucky investments and a famous name. Michael is the one with the business sense really. Anyway, I’m exhausted, and I have to leave early tomorrow. You can leave Pansy’s bill on the table there, I’ll deal with it in the morning. Goodnight.”

Before Draco could take in the conversation they’d just had, Harry sent his mug flying over to the sink and slouched into his room. Draco stared at the ornate door leading to the master bedroom, wondering how Potter could underestimate himself so much. It was clear this evening that Robertson Sr. was having a ball chatting with Harry, but incredibly wary of Michael’s insistence on discussing nothing but business, even at dinner. Judging by what he had learned watching his father, all those years ago, Draco was willing to bet that Robertson would have run for the hills by now if it wasn’t for Harry’s genuine charm drawing him in.

Draco got up with a sigh, washing the mugs before turning out the lights and heading into his own room. It wasn’t his business to interfere. All he had to do was keep his head down, look pretty, and subtly remind Harry of his table manners. By the end of the week, he’d never be seeing any of these people again.

As he drifted off, he couldn’t help wondering why that thought made him so sad.


	3. Beautiful Day

Harry ran his hand through his hair, giving up on the stock report in his hands in favour of staring out the window. The sunlight was streaming into his office in full force, and he was itching to go out for a walk.

“Harry, do you have the draft for the Lindement contract?” Michael asked, striding into Harry’s office. With a sigh, he turned and handed the blue folder over to his partner, glancing longingly at the window again.

“The Phoenix grill has a patio, right? Could we maybe have lunch outside today?” Harry wondered out loud. 

Michael looked scandalized. “Are you kidding? It’s a business meeting. We’re going to sit on leather chairs in the private room, not on rickety metal picnic tables like a bunch of Hogwarts students. How do you think Cooper will react to bugs in his meal, and having to talk over the noise of shoppers out in Diagon?”

Harry nodded, staring resolutely at his desk. It was a beautiful day, and he had hoped that being outside would boost everyone’s mood. 

“Anyway, are you ready to go? Are you flying solo today?”

Harry shook his head as he stood up. “Draco should be here any minute.” He didn’t miss the face Michael pulled. Thankfully he didn’t say anything about it.

“Jacob is already here, so let us know when Malfoy arriv— ” Just then, the floo whooshed and out stepped Draco. Harry glanced at his watch and was surprised to note that Draco had arrived exactly on time.

“Perfect, shall we head out?” Harry asked, grinning at Draco. 

“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up with Jacob in a moment. Do  _ not _ change our reservation,” Michael warned, before marching out of the office.

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped into the floo. He emerged in the dimly lit restaurant, though the sun was shining full force through the picture windows.

“Welcome Mr. Potter, your table is ready in the back if you’ll follow me?”

He waited for Draco to emerge before following the hostess to a fairly well-hidden table in the back. He shot a longing look at the window before taking a seat at the end of the table, remembering at the last minute to sit down from the left. For a moment, he thought that the smile Draco gave him for remembering could make up for the lack of sunlight.

“What did Corner mean about changing the reservation?” Draco asked as he sat next to Harry.

“Oh, I wanted to sit on the patio because the weather was so nice, but apparently that’s not appropriate for a business meeting.”

“Well, a nice, private patio might do. It also depends on how formal this meeting has to be.”

Harry smiled at Draco just as Michael and Jacob walked in. It was definitely too late to argue about the patio now, but it felt nice having someone side with him anyway.

The lunch went quite smoothly, and they managed to get Cooper to sign the contract much sooner than they had expected. As had been the case the night before, Draco and Jacob seemed to get along really well. Even after Cooper had left, they were still chatting away like old friends. 

“Well, we’d better get back to the office,” Michael pointed out, waving the signed contract. “I want to get these sealed and sent to Gringotts ASAP.”

Harry sent another glance at the window. He was just about to suggest walking back when Michael interrupted his thoughts.

“No, we don’t have time to walk back. Honestly, you’re like a child, wanting to go play in the sun. Didn’t we all do that enough as kids?”

Not wanting to bring his shit childhood into the argument, Harry gave in, following Michael to the floo. Draco and Jacob remained seated, having decided to order coffee and chat a bit longer.

“Are you going to keep bringing Malfoy as your date?” Michael demanded as they walked into Harry’s office. 

“I.. yeah. Why?”

“It’s going to cause a media shit storm once they catch on. He’s not good for business, Harry!”

“It’s been seven years, Michael. Maybe if I show the world that I’m moving on, they’ll follow my lead.”

“Mate, even you aren’t famous enough to make people like Malfoy. He’s going to scare away partners and clients!”

“Robertson and Cooper didn’t have a problem with him, did they? Anyway, you’re the one who keeps saying that no publicity is bad publicity.”

“I only say that because you become inconsolable when the paparazzi start reporting on your personal life. What are you going to do when they find out you’re dating Malfoy?”

“I’m not  _ dating _ him— ”

“Then why is he your  _ date _ , Harry?”

“I, he… we’re friends. We ran into each other a few days ago, and I asked him to join me. I already told you all this, Michael.”

“Fine,” Michael snapped, clearly done with the conversation. “I’m going to go get these contracts filed, can you get started on the year-end review?”

The afternoon dragged on as Harry made his way slowly through the mounting pile of paperwork on his desk. He was surprised at 6:00 to find Draco standing in the doorway to his office.

“You’re done for the day, aren’t you?” Draco asked. “Everyone else in the office is gone. Trust you to be the one putting in overtime.”

“It’s a busy time of year,” Harry mumbled. 

“Okay. Do you want me to get you anything?” Harry looked up at him, rubbing his neck.

“You’re not my assistant; I’m not going to order you around. There’s no dinner or anything tonight, you can have the evening to yourself.”

“Oh, um, okay then.” He turned and shuffled out of the office, and Harry suddenly felt drained. 

“Draco, wait!” Draco turned back to him, one delicate eyebrow raised. 

“I’ve been wanting to go outside all day. Do you know how to walk back to the hotel from here?”

Draco nodded. “I walked here, there’s a nice breeze out.”

That was all the convincing Harry needed. He didn’t even bother cleaning his desk, casting a hasty locking charm at the office door before following Draco out the front door of the building. 

“I’m surprised you don’t know how to walk back from your own office,” Draco pointed out.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t get to walk a lot, and when I do there’s usually people telling me where to go. And usually I’m in such a rush to leave the office, I just floo out.”

“No wonder you’re desperate for fresh air.” Harry nodded. He couldn’t wait for this week to be over so that he could go back to the manor in Godric’s Hollow. He hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of living alone in a large mansion, but he had quickly found out that the grounds were perfect for outdoor adventures. He spent most of the walk back telling Draco about the creatures he’d found in the woods on the edge of his property. 

“Sounds like a lovely place you have,” Draco offered politely.

“You should come visit,” Harry said, his mood lifting as they walked through the hotel lobby. 

“You want me to visit?” Draco asked, disbelieving. Harry just nodded as they stepped into the elevator. 

“It’s a bit depressing to live in such a huge place by myself. Ron and Hermione visit most weekends, but otherwise, no one really comes out to see me.”

Draco nodded, remembering how empty the manor had felt in those months awaiting his trials. He would have loved to have someone visit him then too.

“I’d love to see your place sometime,” he said as Harry opened the door to the suite. A delicious smell told them that the elves had already brought up their dinner.

“This looks good,” Harry said happily, picking up the cover on one of the trays as Draco glanced over at the balcony.

“We should eat on the balcony,” he said. Harry looked up at him, and Draco suddenly had a feeling that he’d made a very big mistake.

“Um, you can if you’d like,” Harry mumbled. “I’ll stay in here though.”

“Oh, I’ll stay in too then. I just thought you’d want to since you wanted fresh air.”

Harry shook his head as he sat down at the table. Draco joined him.

“I’m not too great with heights,” Harry admitted as he helped himself to a portion of the beautifully glazed salmon. “I used to be okay on a broom since most of the time I didn’t have to focus on looking down, but I find balconies terrifying.”

“Then why do you have the suite on the top floor?” Draco asked.

“Because it’s the best that money can buy.” Harry shrugged, pushing the platter of salmon towards Draco. He couldn’t help frowning as he served himself. Where had Harry picked up this idea that the only things worth having were the most expensive ones?

And when had he started calling him Harry in his head? Draco pondered these mysteries as he took a bite of the delicious salmon. He sighed softly as it melted in his mouth and decided to put his worries about Harry aside for now. Who knew when he’d get such good food again after this week? There was no point ruining the memory with morbid thoughts.

“So, there’s a Quodpot tournament tomorrow?” Draco asked as he polished off his last bite of salmon.

Harry nodded. “It’s a community event that we’re sponsoring. It allows children from all over the city to come out and play with others their age, and it allows sponsors to interact with parents. We also have a few clients who’ll be attending, so it’ll be nice to keep up with them.”

Draco nodded. He had thought that the trousers and silk shirt Pansy had given him seemed rather formal for a Quodpot tournament, but now he understood that it was more of an “impress the clients” situation than a “let the kids have fun” kind of event. 

He had hated these things as a child. It was never about giving the children a good time. His parents had always been eager to show off their perfect little heir, and all his friends’ parents had been no different. Whatever games the adults put out were usually not nearly entertaining enough to keep the children occupied all afternoon, and the food was often atrocious too. The annoying voice in the back of his brain unhelpfully pointed out that right now, any food was good food for Draco.

Speaking of good food, Pippy had cleared the table during Harry’s explanation and was now levitating a beautiful chocolate torte into the center of it. Draco lost track of anything Harry might have said as he dug into his slice, savouring every bite of the silky, rich filling. As soon as he was done, Pippy offered him another slice, but Draco knew how dangerous that would be. He was already feeling a bit uneasy from how much food he'd had today, and so when Pippy cleared the table and Potter offered him a cup of hot chocolate, Draco declined.

"As much as I love chocolate, I really don't know if my stomach has place for anything else. Thank you," he said politely as they sat down in the hall. Harry reached over to the nearest coffee table and picked up a thick folder.

"Sorry, I really need to finish reading this proposal tonight, one of our major investors will be bringing her kids to the tournament tomorrow and I need to be able to answer any questions she'll have. There are a few books on the shelf there if you'd like to read as well."

Deciding it was a good idea to give his food time to digest before going to sleep, Draco got up to examine Harry's bookshelf. He was surprised at the collection he found. His shelves were full of all the classics, both muggle and wizarding. It had been so long since he'd read a book that it took a considerable amount of time to be able to decide what he was in the mood for.

Barely half an hour later, he started to feel his eyes drooping. He tried to stay focused on the book in front of him, but it was a losing battle.

"You don't have to stay up with me. I'll be working for a while," Harry said gently. "If you're tired, you should head to bed."

Draco nodded, noting his page number and putting the book back on the shelf. He turned to face Harry again.

"Are you sure you don't need me for anything else tonight?" he asked. Harry shook his head.

"Just be ready to go to the tournament tomorrow. Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight."

Draco wandered into his room and set about getting ready for the night. As he drew the curtains and climbed under the covers, he couldn't help wondering why Harry hadn't asked him for sex yet. Sure, he was here to appear as his date to formal events, but he'd assumed the whole point of being invited to stay was so that he was available for whatever night time activities might take Potter's fancy. Now that he really thought about it, Potter had barely even looked at him in that way. His first thought was that Potter might be in a committed relationship with someone, but then why would he need Draco as a date for these events?

Draco had to admit though, it was nice to interact with someone who was being respectful of him as a person. Most of the people he encountered in life looked at him as an object or a second class citizen because of his work. Most of his clients would probably recognise his mouth or his arse anywhere but would have no clue who his eyes belonged to. And yet Harry always looked him in the eye, greeting him cheerfully and talking to him like an old friend. That was an odd thought — could he be  _ friends _ with Harry Potter?

No, he thought suddenly. He had to be careful. He was only here for a week, after which he'd probably never see Harry again. It wouldn't do to get his hopes up about being  _ friends. _


	4. The Quodpot Tournament

As Draco had expected, the main focus of the Quodpot tournament was to network with the parents, while the kids died of boredom. He dutifully followed Harry around the grounds of the country club, smiling politely and sipping on his lemonade while Harry charmed the socks off his clients. As he listened to Harry laugh and joke with people, Draco came to the conclusion that if he still had his fortune, he would definitely have been convinced to invest with Harry. As much as the man claimed that it was Michael who had all the business sense, Harry seemed quite up to speed on what was going on with the various projects and investments that he was involved in. In fact, there were even a couple of instances where Harry had to step in to cover Michael's lack of knowledge about their work. Not that Corner said thank you even once, but it seemed Harry was happy to help his partner out anyway.

"I don't quite know why you still chose to work with him, Harry dear." Draco had been listening with half an ear all morning, but his ears perked up at Mrs. Finkley's comment. He glanced up to find Mr. Finkley nodding along. Draco decided that he very much liked the elderly couple.

"With Michael?" Harry asked in surprise. "He's my business partner, we've been working together since we finished Hogwarts."

"That's a load of tosh, Harry," Mrs. Finkley said, her husband still nodding along dutifully. "The man is not fit to be dealing with such a large empire; he can barely keep all his projects straight. And he's a horrible bore."

Draco smirked into his dwindling lemonade. Maybe he should offer to refresh everyone's drinks before he started outright agreeing with the Finkleys. He had a feeling Harry wouldn't appreciate that at all.

"I didn't realise you weren't happy with our work," Harry said carefully. "I can always arrange to sit down with you one day if you have any feedback to offer us? I'm only in London for a couple more days, but maybe we can do a lunch next time I'm in town. Your opinion is always invaluable to us."

"There's the difference!" Mrs. Finkley said triumphantly. "He went on and on about how his decisions were right, unwilling to listen to what George and I had to say at all! We've invested hundreds of thousands of Galleons with you boys, I'd appreciate being listened to from time to time."

"Lucius was a man with strong business sense," Mr. Finkley said softly. Draco looked up, eyes wide.

"Not the best morals, that man, but even he had the business sense to know not to burn bridges by ignoring and belittling his clients. He was very charming when he wanted to be."

"He wasn't genuinely charming, not like young Harry here," Mrs. Finkley huffed.

"No, but he still made the effort. Remember Narcissa sent you flowers every year on your birthday, and he sent tickets to the theater for mine. They always took us out for lunch during the holidays. They built a relationship with us, reminded us that he was a human that we could supposedly trust, the same way young Harry here is doing."

"That was true, at least until their unfortunate involvement with the war," Mrs. Finkley sighed. She gave Draco a rather critical look, but surprisingly, Harry spoke up.

"I think it was difficult for any of our generation not to get involved in the war in some way or another. We were still young enough that big decisions like that were out of our hands. It's very much motivated me to think about making responsible decisions for future generations."

"Well, the first responsible decision would be not to entrust such large companies to a bitter young man like that," Mrs. Finkley huffed. "We'll still be here either way, but I do think you would be a smashing success on your own, or at least with a different business partner. I still worry that Corner will lose us our investments. It's happened before."

Yes, when Ministry sanctions froze and then confiscated the Malfoy accounts. Draco sighed before speaking up.

"I'd like to apologise for my family's behaviour, Mr. and Mrs. Finkley. You must have lost a lot of investments if you were working with my father."

"Luckily, we saw it coming and withdrew," Mrs. Finkley said pointedly, now turning to face Draco directly. "But when you get to be as old as us, you see companies and empires rise and fall. It's not the first time we've withdrawn an investment, and by the grace of Merlin, if we live long enough, it won't be the last. That's how business works. What we got back from Lucius we reinvested into Harry barely a few years later. It's not the end of the world. Though if he keeps Corner around, we may have to reinvest again."

Harry paled at that. Draco felt bad for him; the Finkleys seemed harmless enough, but it was never fun to be ganged up on by an elderly couple who had an idea about how you should live your life (or run your business).

"It's good to see that you're keeping better company than your parents did, young man," Mr. Finkley said to Draco. "We should be heading over to the pitch now, our granddaughter is starting in the first match, but please at least think about what we've said, Harry. You deserve better."

They turned and hobbled away. Draco turned to Harry, ready to offer to refresh his drink for him, but stopped dead at the look on his face.

"They were one of my first investors," Harry said softly. "I didn't realise they were unhappy with Michael. Maybe I should talk to him about this."

"Are you so sure that's the best idea? It'll cause tension between the three of them. It seems like your options are to take their advice, or spend the rest of your career hearing them nag you about it."

Harry chuckled at that. "They're like family to me at this point. I guess the nagging just makes it more authentic."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, the matches are going to start soon. I was hoping to referee the first one," Harry said, suddenly excited again. "Are you coming to watch?"

Draco nodded. "I'll just go get another drink. Would you like anything?"

Harry handed him his glass, requested another cup of iced tea and they went their separate ways. Draco refilled their glasses, before making his way around to the referee's bench on the side of the pitch, drinks in hand. Harry and Jacob were talking to the children on the field, but Michael was sulking on the bench. Suddenly he stood up and stormed over to Draco, crowding his space.

"What are you doing?" Michael growled, glaring at Draco.

"Um, I was just going to give Harry his drink?" Draco said meekly. Next thing he knew, the cups were being knocked out of his hand, splashing all over his shoes and trousers. One of the glasses hit the edge of the bench and shattered. Draco just stood there gaping at the mess on the ground, unsure what to do.

"Michael!" came Harry's scandalized voice. They both turned to find Harry storming over, a frown on his face. "What was that for?"

"I told you, Harry, you can't trust the little Death Eater," Michael sneered. "I'm sure he poisoned your drink."

Draco's eyes widened at the accusation. He looked up at Harry, wanting to tell him that he did no such thing, but his throat felt tight and he couldn't say anything. Now he was in for it. Harry was going to throw him back out on the street without so much as a Knut. Or have him arrested. Or both.

"What rubbish," Harry said angrily. He turned to Draco, who couldn't help flinching away.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up?" Harry suggested. "Then you can help us referee the next match."

Draco nodded, turning around and making his way mechanically to the restrooms. He pulled some paper towels out of the dispenser and wiped off his shoes. Luckily, they seemed to be liquid resistant and were dry within seconds. His trousers were a different story though. He blotted at the thick fabric, first with a dry towel, and then a wet one, but it didn't do much to remove the stains. He kept at it, cursing his lack of a wand. He was just hoping that no one would come in and laugh at him for having wet trousers when the door opened. To his mortification, it was Mr. Finkley who entered.

"No need to look so alarmed, son, I saw what happened with Corner and thought I'd offer to help. I know a nifty little spell that might lift those stains."

He pointed his wand at Draco, who felt a tingle of magic before his trousers dried magically in front of his eyes. He sighed in relief.

"Thank you Mr. Finkley," he said gratefully. At that moment, the door opened again and Harry rushed in.

"Draco! I completely forgot that you don't have a wand to dry yourself off, let me— " He stopped short at the sight of Mr. Finkley standing there with a now dried Draco.

"Ah, so it's Muggle society you've disappeared to," Mr. Finkley said calmly. "I must admit, I was curious."

Draco nodded, unsure what else to do. So this was how the magical community would find out how low Draco had fallen in life. He'd _ known _ this week with Potter was a bad idea.

"George, could I ask you not to reveal to anyone else that Draco doesn't have his wand on him? It could put him in serious danger if people who are still holding old grudges find out."

Mr. Finkley nodded, pocketing his own wand. "I merely came in here to wash my hands. I have no knowledge of who may or may not be wandless at this event," he said with a sly smile. "I'll see you around, gentlemen."

He was barely out the door when Harry started babbling again.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realise he was in here! I'm sure he won't say anything to anyone though; he generally keeps to himself."

"It... it's okay," Draco stuttered, surprised he'd gotten out of that without revealing what he actually did for a living. Now that he thought about it, he was also surprised that Harry had remembered his predicament and come to help him. He was supposed to be out on the pitch, officiating a match.

"Aren't you going to miss the match?" Draco asked worriedly.

Harry shrugged. "Jacob's still out there, and we have an actual Quodpot ref on hand to take over when necessary. I was just doing it because I love playing with the children. I'll head back now if you're okay?"

Draco nodded. "Do you want me to leave? I wouldn't want to cause trouble for you if Corner is uncomfortable having me around."

"No, stay. Michael should be leaving soon anyway, and I've warned him to stay away from you for today."

Draco couldn't help thinking that that wasn't Harry's smartest move, but he dutifully followed Harry back to the pitch. Before long they were drawn into the game with the kids, running around after the rigged Quod and trying to block their team's pots. To make the game more child-friendly, the Quod had been spelled to shoot confetti instead of exploding, and it wasn't long before Harry's wild hair was full of the colourful pieces of paper. Draco found himself enjoying the game immensely, even when the kids all tackled him to the ground in an attempt to stop him from sinking the quad. Jacob spent most of the game laughing at them from the sidelines since he was mostly in charge of keeping the two toddlers out of harm's way. Everyone's heart melted during one adorable moment when one of the toddlers got a hold of the Quod, and Jacob picked her up, sprinting her to the other end of the field to sink the Quod in the pot.

By the end of the afternoon Harry, Draco, Jacob and the children were all wrung out. They were all sitting around on the pitch, the younger ones singing songs with Jacob and the older children telling Draco terrible jokes, as one by one they were collected by their families. Harry gave every child a hug as they left, earning him bright smiles from all the parents and grandparents.

When the last child had been collected, they dusted themselves off and made their way back to the patio, where most of the guests had left for the day. They found Michael sulking around near the refreshments table, which was currently being cleaned up by an attendant.

"Harry, can I have a word?  _ In private? _ " he bit out, glaring at Draco. Harry nodded, turning to Draco.

"I'll meet you back at the hotel," he said pointedly. Draco recognized a dismissal when he heard it, and bidding goodbye to Jacob, he made his way over to the floo. He passed numerous teams of staff members setting up the main ballroom for a dinner that Harry and Michael were hosting tonight, for the same guests. Pansy had told him that the food here was to die for and that it was one of the most coveted clubs in the area. He stepped into the flames with a last glance around the country club, hoping against hope that he'd be allowed to return tonight.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


"You should go too," Michael grumbled at Jacob, while Harry watched Draco make his way back towards the floos. Jacob spared them a worried glance, before nodding and following Draco inside. He was barely out of earshot before Michael rounded on him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Harry?" Michael demanded.

"Why don't you tell me, since you're the one who seems to have a problem, Michael!" Harry snapped back, unsure why his partner was so upset.

"You're acting like a little child these days, wanting to go out in the sun, playing Quodpot with actual children. You have grass stains on your trousers, for fuck's sake!"

"That's what a laundry service is for. Remember you forced me to sign up with the most expensive one in London?"

"It's not like you can't afford it," Michael grumbled. "And clearly you're making good use of it." He glanced pointedly at the grass stains all over Harry's legs.

"We just hosted a Quodpot tournament for young children! The whole point is to play with them!"

"No, the whole point is to network with their parents, idiot! The children don't have control over their family's hundreds of thousands of Galleons! No one cares about the children!"

"How can you say that? The parents all  _ loved _ seeing us play with the children. They thought it was adorable. The rule of thumb with families is that if the kids are happy, the parents are happy. And anyway, they're so cute, how could you not want to play with them?"

"You're just proving my point, Harry! You're a businessman — the most successful one in Europe, I might add — not a preschool teacher! Your job is to tend to clients and what they want, not their little ankle biters. And on the subject of unhappy clients, what's up with bringing Malfoy to everything? You're making people uncomfortable, no one wants him around."

"Really? Because I haven't heard anyone complain about his presence so far except you."

"He's bad for business, Harry. What are the odds, even for someone as unlucky as you, to just  _ run into him _ out on the road? He's probably a spy, working for some of our competitors. Or he still has some kind of dark agenda, I'm sure of it."

"He's not planning anything nefarious, Michael!" Harry insisted.

"How can you know that?" Michael demanded.

"Because I hired him! Happy? I'm paying him to be my date."

"What, as in an escort? He has a reputation, Harry. No agency would hire him."

"He doesn't work with an agency..." Harry mumbled. Michael stared at him for a moment, and Harry stared right back defiantly.

"Are you trying to tell me he's... a prostitute?" Michael finally choked out. Harry nodded.

"Stop lying to me, Harry. As if  _ you _ of all people would hire a fucking prostitute. You can't even get it up with your right hand, let alone a pretty boy like Malfoy."

Harry winced at Michael's rude comment on his sexuality, but he let it slide for now. He had bigger things to worry about.

"I didn't hire him for sex, you dick. I was lost, so he gave me directions back to the hotel. I invited him in, and we started chatting. Then I realised that I still needed a date for the Elvenshire dinner. So I asked him to come with me, and he said yes. He's staying with me until I go home next week."

"He's staying with you? Fuck, Harry, I knew you were full of shit. Asexual my arse, that was just an excuse not to try and date people, wasn't it? And here you are bringing prostitutes home in the dead of the night."

"I don't sleep with him!" Harry said angrily. "He's using the guest room! I  _ am _ asexual, you utter twat, and I  _ do _ make an effort to date people. How did we even get to this topic anyway? I thought you were busy calling me childish?"

"I don't even know what to think of you right now, Harry. What's gotten into you?"

Harry huffed angrily, turning away from Michael to stare at the grounds. He wasn't sure what he could say to Michael to get him to understand.

"Can you please just be civil to Draco, and not tell anyone what he does for a living? After this week, I'm returning to Godric's Hollow, and you'll have your peace and quiet back. Anyway, we're already halfway through the week and no one's made any fuss so far."

Michael gritted his teeth but finally agreed to let it go. Harry knew he was a perpetual cause of stress for Michael — being as famous as he was, he was a PR nightmare, and even without the publicity, there were quite a few times when they just didn't see eye to eye. It was one of the reasons Harry didn't spend much time in London. He was able to do most of his work remotely from Godric's Hollow, and they seemed to be doing quite well so far. Except that these days they seemed to clash more and more, and the workload was getting harder and harder to manage, and now apparently clients and investors were starting to get unhappy.

"Um, I should also mention, I think we need to take more time to sit down with investors and really hear what they have to say. A couple of people were making comments about that today." He kept Draco's advice not to use names in mind, but he knew he had to say something to Michael.

"What do you mean they were making comments?" Michael said angrily. "Do these old farts think they can know better than us? If they want to switch places, I'm happy to go stay in their vacation homes and live a life of leisure while they work their arses off doing our work."

"I don't think they want to run the whole business; they just have some feedback. You just said our job is to tend to clients and what they want. Doesn't that mean listening to them and making them feel heard? We don't have to change everything they tell us to, but it would help to  _ listen _ ."

"You're too fucking soft, Harry. Don't let them push you around. We do our work  _ our way _ , and no one gets to interfere in that. If they don't like it, they can fuck right off."

"But— "

"No. The next person who dares suggest they know better than us, you send them to me, and I'll set them straight. Understood?"

Harry shrugged, which was apparently enough for Michael. He didn't agree with Michael at all, but he didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

"Anyway, I'm going home to get ready for dinner, you'd better go get dressed too," Michael said sternly. "You've been dressing better this week. I'm guessing Malfoy's been giving you tips."

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "He saved my arse with the Robertson's dinner. I was going to show up way underdressed if he hadn't warned me."

Michael snorted, turning to leave.

"Why am I not surprised that your whore dresses better than you? You really are something else, Harry," he called over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving Harry standing on the patio, feeling incredibly unsettled.

Harry was distracted for the rest of the evening. He did his best to talk to their guests, with Draco at his side, but he was hyper-aware of Michael watching him rather closely. More than once he popped up and inserted himself into whatever conversation Harry was having, often changing the subject aggressively when their conversation didn’t suit him. Harry could see a lot of the guests getting disgruntled at his antics, and eventually gave up on talking about business at all, sticking to completely unrelated topics instead, like their families and their recent vacations.

The other thing that seemed to irk Harry was Michael's behaviour towards Draco. He kept sneering at him, and while Draco simply ignored him, Harry could tell it must have been annoying. Finally, in an effort to get away from Michael's scrutiny, and to spare their guests his aggressive conversation, Harry had the staff open up the dance floor, and led Draco into the first dance of the evening. He found it was surprisingly easy to dance with Draco, and he had more fun than he'd expected. He almost managed to put his worries aside for a while, but once the dancing ended and people started to call it a night, they crept right back in.

As he lay in bed that night, he couldn't help replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He knew that he and Michael didn't always see eye to eye, but while he was usually able to trust that Michael was doing what was best for business, something about his attitude towards the clients' feedback felt  _ wrong. _ He thought about what Mr. and Mrs. Finkley had said about companies rising and falling. Harry genuinely enjoyed his work. He didn't want it to come to an end. He'd seen the fallout from a few of his competitors who had to close up shop and declare bankruptcy, and shuddered at the thought that that could happen to them.

Harry shifted in his bed, turning so that he could see the night sky through the double doors that led to his private balcony. He hated this room — the balcony doors were made entirely of glass, so no matter where he was standing, he had a dizzying view of London. The only position in which he could bear to look out his own window was when he was lying down in bed, his body grounded against something solid, and his eyes only able to make out the stars against the night sky. He'd taken to sleeping in the guest room lately when he was sure no one would be coming into his apartment to scold him for not using his master room. The guest room was ideal for him. The window was perfectly positioned behind the bed, allowing him to wake up bathed in sunlight in the morning, but also obscured enough by the frame that he could avoid looking down from most places in the room.

Of course, he couldn't use that room while Draco was here. He'd considered moving his stuff into the guest room and offering Draco the master, but considering how Michael had reacted to Draco staying with him at all, he was sure he'd get into a lot of shit for not putting the guest in the guest room. Harry cringed as his thoughts moved back to their argument. Michael had never been one to sugarcoat things, but he'd been especially rude to Harry today. He wondered if there was maybe something else going on in his life that was upsetting Michael. Maybe he had just released some of his personal frustrations on Harry without meaning to. They were both taking the day off tomorrow, and Harry knew Michael would spend most of the day relaxing at home with Jacob. He hoped his business partner would be in a better mood come Friday.

Harry was looking forward to his day off though. He'd been invited to watch a play at the Muggle primary school that Teddy, Victoire and Dominique were attending. It was supposed to be a fundraiser for their school library, so of course, Harry had bought a whole row of tickets for all the Weasleys, along with Harry and Andromeda. He was excited at the thought of seeing them all again, especially his godson. He'd planned to head down to Diagon Alley in the morning to get presents for the children, and wondered absently if Draco might want to come along to help him pick something out. He realised belatedly that he'd asked Draco to come for the play — his adoptive family could be as intrusive about his love life as the press sometimes, and he'd started the week thinking it would help to have someone on his arm to deflect questions. After seeing Michael's reaction though, he couldn't help worrying how the family would feel.

He had to admit though, it was really nice having Draco around to deflect questions about when he would start dating or why he was still single. He hadn't had a lot of luck in his dating life so far. Most of his previous relationships had been unable to accept that he just didn't want sex. The only ex who had truly understood was Ginny, but thanks to her interest in many different sexual kinks, they'd been incompatible, to say the least. He wasn't resentful about losing her though. She seemed to really enjoy her life with Neville, and they had even built their own sex dungeon in the spare room of their flat.

Of course, not all of them had been as kind about it as Ginny. Harry had lost count of the number of times people hadn't believed him, and the hurtful remarks had been plentiful.

_ Are you sure? _

_ You just need to meet the right person. _

_ Maybe you're gay. _

_ You're probably not doing it right. _

_ Have you seen a Healer? _

_ Maybe you're straight. _

_ Don't you want kids? _

_ Why can't you just be normal? _

That was the question, wasn't it? Why couldn't he just be normal? It would make his already complicated life so much easier if he could just nod and smile and lay back and enjoy himself every time his date reached for the zip on his trousers or lifted the hem of his shirt. He could identify when people were attractive, and he knew how sex worked. He'd even tried it, multiple times, but it just never clicked.

Knowing he'd hate himself for it after the fact, Harry let his hand slip under the covers, slowly making its way down under the waistband of his pyjama pants. He gripped himself firmly and started stroking tentatively. He tried to focus his thought on blond hair and grey eyes, on thin, pale limbs. He tried to imagine graceful fingers in place of his own, rubbing light circles on his head, brushing his balls lightly.

With a groan, he gave up. He was usually fine to bring himself off in the shower every so often, thinking of no one and nothing in particular and just enjoying the sensation of the hot water on his back as he relieved his own stress. But this, the laying in bed in the dark night,  _ fantasizing  _ about someone else, just didn't work. That wasn't to say he didn't have his fantasies. But they were usually about someone who would respect his boundaries and love him regardless. They were about adopting children with a supportive partner, and raising them with all the love in the world. His fantasies revolved around living a happy life, not a happy  _ sex _ life.

Harry turned over again and buried his face in his pillow, wishing he could just fall asleep. For a brief moment, he considered taking a small dose of dreamless sleep, but he was already comfortable and didn't want to get up. With a sigh he closed his eyes and waited, trying to ignore what he was sure was a clear metaphor.


	5. Magorian's Toy Emporium

Draco was surprised to find himself alone at breakfast the next morning. He thought for a moment that Harry had left early for work, but Pippy soon informed him that “master is sleeping in today”. He glanced at the closed bedroom door before turning his attention back to his tea and telling Pippy that he’d only have some toast to tide him over until Harry woke up. It seemed a bit rude to eat without his host.

As Pippy disappeared with a pop, Draco frowned at the direction his thoughts were taking. He’d always been so good at keeping his work separate from his (admittedly empty) life, and part of that was thinking of his clients as just that — clients. They were not his hosts, or his friends, or his lovers, or any other term they might possibly want to use. Even the regulars whom he saw on a weekly basis were kept at arm's length, with no emotional connections. But of course, Harry Potter had to fuck all that up.

Not that he was a normal client. None of Draco’s previous clients would ever have given Draco so much: rich food, beautiful clothes, a warm bed, a roof that didn’t leak. That, and the obvious — all his other clients wanted him just for sex. But Potter hadn’t so much as mentioned the idea. He'd heard stories from the others who worked off of Balsam Lane of those odd clients who came along every once in a while, hiring them just for a chat, or to not be alone for the night. Draco had always envied their luck, but if that’s the type of client Harry was going to turn out to be, it was definitely  _ him _ who'd gotten lucky.

Truth be told, Draco was getting tired of sex work. Merlin, he was getting tired of sex. It was taking its toll on him to be having sex multiple times a night, every single night, with absolute strangers, most of whom barely considered him to be little more than a toy. For a few moments, he let himself entertain the idea that Harry might hire him again the next time he was in town. He had no clue how long it would take for him to return, but he had to admit it would be nice to take a little break like this again one day.

He was just about to admonish himself for getting his hopes up (as was happening a lot these days) when Harry's bedroom door creaked open and the man himself emerged. Draco was surprised to see that he looked tired and unkempt; his hair was a mess, instead of gelled back like it had been all week. He was wearing sinfully tight jeans and a well-fitted shirt instead of his usual office robes as well, and Draco suddenly remembered that today was marked as "day off" on Harry's ridiculous schedule.

"Morning," Harry mumbled, sitting down at the other end of the table. Pippy appeared within moments with a steaming cup of coffee for Harry, asking what he'd like for breakfast.

"I'll just have whatever Draco had," he sighed, taking a long sip of his coffee.

"I haven't actually eaten yet," Draco told him. "I was waiting for you."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Harry blushed. He turned to Pippy, who was waiting patiently to hear what each of them wanted.

"Can I get that cereal with the colourful marshmallows in it?" Harry asked quietly, glancing furtively at Draco who knew this was a situation to pretend he hadn't heard. He hadn't had marshmallow cereal since he was in Charms school, and honestly, he wouldn't want it. That stuff was horribly sweet.

"Chef is making quiche Lorraine and rosemary potatoes this morning," Pippy said, turning to Draco. "Or would sir like cereal as well?"

From the face she made, Draco could tell exactly what she thought of grown men eating cereal for breakfast, though he was sure she would never have made such a face if Harry could see it.

"The quiche and potatoes sound lovely Pippy, thank you," he said gently, smiling at the relieved look on her face. She disappeared with a pop, and he looked up to find Harry scribbling on a scrap piece of parchment.

"I thought today was supposed to be your day off," Draco pointed out. Harry barely glanced up, his attention not leaving the parchment.

"This isn't for work. It's a shopping list," Harry mumbled. "Going to buy presents for the children today. Wanna come?"

"Sure." Draco shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything else to do today. He was just about to ask what children when Pippy returned.

"Pippy is bringing breakfast and today's paper!" the little elf announced as she popped back into the room. The beautiful crystal bowl she placed in front of Harry was a weird contrast with the colourful cereal inside it, but Harry didn't seem to notice. He was too busy scowling at the headline of what looked like today's  _ Daily Prophet. _

"Now what did they do?" Draco asked, before popping a piece of potato into his mouth. Merlin, this was good. Why on earth would Potter choose  _ cereal? _

"See for yourself," Harry grumbled, tossing the paper over. Draco's eye went wide as he picked it up and scanned the headline.

"In hindsight, I'm surprised it took a whole three days for them to catch on," Draco said, trying to keep the situation light. Harry already seemed upset, it wouldn't do to let on that he was panicking as well. The entire front page was devoted to a story claiming that Harry and Draco were in a relationship. There were some quite lovely pictures of them playing with the children at the Quodpot tournament, and even one of them dancing at dinner last night. As his eyes trailed down the page, he found that they had written at length about his fall from grace and his disappearance, wondering why he had suddenly re-emerged in society on Harry's arm. A note at the bottom of the page invited readers to send in their theories of what Draco was plotting and how he had hoodwinked Harry. Draco flipped through to the opinions section to find that there was already a handful of letters that claimed he was manipulating the saviour or else had him under an Imperius curse. Draco couldn't help laughing at that one.

"I'm glad to see you find this so funny," Harry scowled, not sounding glad at all.

"It's just this part, where they claim I've Imperiused you. I saw with my own eyes that even Alastor Moody couldn't control you, but they think I can?"

Harry seemed to lighten a bit at that.

"I'll get out of your hair today though," Draco sighed, his heart breaking at his own words. "Clearly, I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"That's not true," Harry said suddenly. "Please, stay. I'll have the  _ Prophet _ print a retraction of all the shit they wrote. No one will bother you anymore."

"I don't think they'll retract an entire issue," Draco sighed, handing the paper back. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

Harry nodded, apparently at a loss for what to say next.

"So you said you're going shopping for some kids today?" Draco asked. He knew changing the subject was the coward's way out, but he couldn't help worrying that if they kept talking about their arrangement, Harry would come to his senses and kick him out.

"Yeah, my godson Teddy, and Bill and Fleur's children, Victoire and Dominique. They're all performing in a school play tonight. The whole family is going to be there."

Draco suddenly realised what "St. Anne's Primary School Spring concert" was. He'd been wondering what the event on Harry's schedule was tonight, having thought it might be a charity thing. He pulled the schedule Harry had given him out of his pocket to double check, and sure enough, the event was highlighted in green.

"How old are they?" he asked. He had the feeling that he was forgetting something here.

"Teddy just turned eight, and Victoire will be seven in the fall. Dominique is four, I think. There's also Molly and Rosie, but neither of them is even one yet. Percy and Ron have been having a great time commiserating about the lack of sleep."

Draco remembered Percy, the uptight head boy with Gryffindor-red hair. He couldn't imagine the man as a father. Merlin, times had changed.

"And whose child is Teddy?" Draco asked, trying to make sure he had all the children straight. He was sure he'd recognise Fleur Delacour's children in a heartbeat, and the other two were apparently young enough that Draco could ignore them. But the oldest boy was apparently Harry's godson, and he probably needed to know more.

"Um, his parents were Remus and Nymphadora. They... they died in the battle of Hogwarts. He was raised by his grandmother, Andromeda, though I always try to step in whenever she needs a break."

"Andromeda..." It suddenly clicked. This child, Teddy, was  _ his cousin. _ He had a brief flashback to the Dark Lord teasing him about babysitting "the cubs" in his family — he'd been referring to this boy.

Draco considered this throughout breakfast. Was the boy actually a werewolf? He knew it would be tactless to ask, but he was suddenly burning with curiosity about one of his only remaining relatives. Did Teddy know who he was? Had Andromeda told him about the horrible Malfoys?

And would his aunt be there too? How would she react to seeing him? His mother had told him, in the last few days before she died, that she'd always regretted losing touch with her sister. There had been no one at the funeral except for Draco. Did Andromeda feel the same way? Or did she hate him and everything his family had stood for?

The question was still on his mind as they made their way out into Diagon Alley, with Harry leading the way into Magorian's Toy Emporium. It wasn't too crowded, considering it was still fairly early on a weekday, so they were mostly able to browse in peace. Which was a good thing, because Harry didn't move quickly. His eyes seemed to light up at the sight of every toy he passed, and he reached out and touched or tried at least half of them.

"This is so cool!" Harry exclaimed, picking up a set of colour-changing markers. "It would be such a good idea for Teddy. He's been feeling a little insecure about his powers recently. It might cheer him up to have something with the same abilities."

"The ability to change colour?" Draco asked, confused. Harry nodded.

"He's a Metamorphmagus, like his mother."

Oh. Now that he knew that, he realised the markers were actually a genius gift. He was about to say so when he saw Harry put them back.

"I thought you were getting those," Draco pointed out.

"They don't really cost enough. I can't spend just four Galleons on my godson. He's my everything."

"I don't think eight-year-old children really care how much their present cost," Draco frowned. "If the markers will make him feel good, aren't they worth whatever price?"

"Everyone always comments on the fact that I'm apparently very stingy for someone so rich," Harry said, sounding sad. "They keep telling me I should be spending more money. And it's not that I have a problem with spending it; I just don't always know how."

"Well, if you really want to spend more money on him, maybe you could buy more than one gift?" Draco suggested. Again, Harry shook his head.

"Andromeda doesn't like it when I give him multiple gifts at once. She says I'm spoiling him."

"But she doesn't mind if the gifts are very expensive?" Draco couldn't help asking. Something wasn't adding up here.

Harry just shrugged and kept walking. He eventually came across a beautiful model of the Hogwarts express. It looked incredibly delicate, and Draco couldn't imagine any child being allowed to play with something like that.

"Maybe he'd like this?" Harry mused out loud. "He's started talking about Hogwarts recently."

"But what would he do with it?" Draco asked. "A distant aunt once gave me something like this, and it just sat on top of my bookshelf for 10 years getting dusty. He wouldn't have any fun with it."

Harry seemed to deflate as he realised that Draco was right.

"I'm terrible at this," he sighed. "I never know what to get for the children."

"Well, what toys did you enjoy as a kid?" Draco suggested. It quickly became apparent that that had been the wrong thing to say.

"I'll just get them all gift certificates. They can come and pick what they want on their own," Harry grumbled, putting down his basket and turning away.

"What? That's not — wait!" Draco sputtered, unsure what he'd said wrong. He picked up the basket, and marched back to the crafts aisle, picking up the markers and dumping them in the basket. Harry trailed behind him uncertainly as he added a drawing pad, a colouring book, a packet of children's paints and brushes, and a rather thick sticker book. He turned and handed the basket back to Harry.

"Get a nice box, maybe one with his name engraved on it, and put everything inside. That way it counts as one big art kit, but it's not a cheap present."

Harry's face lit up as he took in Draco's words.

"That's brilliant! He's going to love an art kit with his name on it!"

"Especially since he can actually use it," Draco pointed out. He'd always hated receiving gifts that his mother would promptly put into a display case or up on a shelf. He figured his cousin must be the same.

"Any ideas for the girls?" Harry wondered, looking around.

"Well, what do they like? Do you play with them?"

"Yeah. Victoire loves cooking. Molly's always giving her little things to play with in the kitchen."

They wandered down the aisles, and predictably enough Harry stopped in front of a full miniature kitchen, complete with a stove and oven that lit up.

"How are you going to wrap that and carry it to their school?" Draco questioned. He definitely wasn't going to help with that. He looked around, sure that Harry would once again have no idea what to get for the little girl. He saw a poster at the end of the aisle advertising something. Moving closer to take a proper look, he realised it was a children's baking set. It had readymade cookies and icing, along with tiny packets of sprinkles, and according to the poster, the store clerk could customize the accompanying child sized apron.

"What about this?" he asked, and once again, Harry was suitably impressed.

"You're so good at this," he said happily, picking up the yellow box.

The youngest girl was easy enough. Apparently, she collected a certain brand of dolls, and the manufacturers had just released the newest one. After picking up a couple of small plushies for the infants, they paid for the toys and were back at the hotel in time for lunch.

"That went much faster than I expected," Harry said happily, tossing the shopping bags in the corner. Draco spared a moment to wonder if Harry had actually planned to spend the entire day shopping, before realising that thanks to his apparent inability to buy gifts, he probably would have.

"We have to be at the school at five. What do we have to do until then?" he asked.

"Well, you're free to do whatever you want for the afternoon, I guess," Harry shrugged as he took a seat at the table. "I was thinking of taking a soak in the hotel's hot tub. You should join me."

Draco almost groaned. That sounded amazing. There was just one issue.

"I don't have swim trunks," he sighed.

"There's a gift shop downstairs," Harry said easily as he helped himself to the pasta that Pippy had brought up. "We can get you a pair."

And so, after another delicious lunch, they made their way down to the main floor, Harry armed with his wallet and swimming bag. They wandered into the gift shop, where they found Luna behind the counter.

"Hello boys," she said happily, looking up from whatever she had been writing.

"Luna, what are you doing behind the counter?" Harry laughed.

"Steve called in sick this morning, so I decided to step in," she explained. "What are you both doing here?"

"Draco needs swim trunks," Harry explained. "We're going hot-tubbing."

"Oh, well then they're right there," she said, pointing them out. "I think you'd fit a size 34 Draco. You've lost a lot of weight." He realised she was blatantly eyeing him up and turned to the rack with a blush. He grabbed the first thing that looked suitable — a forest green pair in the size she suggested — before plopping them down on the counter.

"You'll also want sandals," she said sweetly, indicating another rack. Harry, who was closer, picked up a pair and tossed them over. They looked to be the right size, so he added them to the small pile of purchases.

"Can you charge them to my account, Luna?" Harry called, from next to a rack where he was inspecting a bunch of touristy key rings. "And this." He held up a key ring with a charm of the London eye on it. Draco couldn't help wondering what Harry could possibly want a key ring for, but he kept quiet as they thanked Luna and made their way down the hall to the whirlpool tub. Draco had only been in a much smaller, dingier version once when a Muggle client had taken him to an apartment building. That client had been very eager, and they hadn't even made it up to the client's apartment that evening. He'd since learned from his Muggle counterparts that hot tubs were considered to be inherently sexy, probably due to the wet heat, or the nudity involved in wearing just swim trunks.

It suddenly struck him that maybe that had been Potter's goal in inviting him down here. Just as he was thinking it, they turned the corner and he caught a glimpse of a beautiful spa deck and a huge pool, the surface of the water bubbling. The place was impeccably clean and tastefully decorated with the same cream and gold colour scheme as the lobby. It looked like a room fit for a king, which he realised belatedly, was exactly what Harry was.

For someone who was apparently brazen enough to want to get it on in a hot tub, Harry was being quite prudish about changing into his trunks. He slipped into a stall in the change room, emerging a moment later in plain black trunks and a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. Draco, who had no modesty left, simply stripped off right there, slipping into the new trunks and folding the rest of his clothes.

He forgot all about any illicit wishes Harry may have had as he slipped into the hot water. This time he couldn't help groaning out loud as the heat penetrated his surprisingly stiff body. He looked up at Harry who was staring at him, still standing on the deck. A moment later his host peeled his shirt off, leaving it right at the edge of the tub, before slipping in and sitting across from Draco.

They sat in silence for a bit, and Draco noticed that Harry kept glancing over at him. The man kept blushing every time Draco caught him looking, and it didn't take long to figure out that he was feeling shy. Draco gave him a few more minutes to work up his courage (okay fine, he was savouring being able to just sit still in the tub) before taking matters into his own hands.

He stood up and stretched, puffing his chest out and surreptitiously taking a step closer to Harry. He continued to twist and turn, showing off his body under the pretence of alleviating his sore muscles. It had been a while since he'd put on a show for anyone, and he couldn't say he wasn't enjoying it. It also helped that this was Harry Potter, the fittest man he'd laid eyes on in a while.

He wandered around the pool, bringing his knees up to his chest with every step. Rather than returning to his own spot, he purposely plopped himself just to the right of Harry, who was still watching him carefully.

"Like what you see?" he drawled, very aware that he'd said the same thing a few days ago when Harry had found him on Balsam Lane. Hoping it would work this time, he reached out and rubbed his foot along Harry's  _ very thick _ calf. Harry's eyes followed Draco's movements carefully, but the rest of him stayed firmly in place. Draco scooted a bit closer, which prompted Harry into speaking.

"Draco, I..."

"Shh," Draco soothed, putting a hand on Harry's strong arm. He was used to nervous clients — they forgot all about their fears eventually.

"Just let me take care of you," he purred, turning and swinging his leg over Harry's lap. He ground his hips downward, his hands sliding into Harry's hair before he was suddenly pushed away.

"No," Harry said determinedly, though he was blushing furiously. "I don't want sex."

"Oh." Draco wasn't sure what to say.  He couldn't remember anyone ever saying that to him.  "I just thought, when you invited me to stay with you... but then you didn't, and I wasn't sure... but then you said hot tub, and... anyway, I'm sorry, I guess I misunderstood."

Realising he was rambling, Draco closed his mouth, backing off to sit back down across from Harry.

"I can see how you would get that idea, considering your line of work," Harry conceded. "I'm sorry I wasn't more clear. I'm not looking for sex, just a date."

Draco nodded, embarrassed by his behaviour. How low had he fallen in life that he now assumed the only thing people wanted him for was a fuck?

"So, um, you've seen so much of my life, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do for fun?" Harry asked in an awkward bid to change the subject.

"Um, there's not much to tell. I don't usually have a lot of time for fun." He wondered if he should have just made something up to be able to dissipate the awkwardness, but after embarrassing himself so thoroughly, he really didn't have the energy in him to concoct a lie like that.

"You're a workaholic? I know the feeling," Harry said lightly, and Draco couldn't help laughing. Even he didn't work as much as Harry did.

"Is that why you needed me of all people to be your date? Too busy working to be able to meet people?"

"I — yeah. That's one reason of many, I suppose."

"Oh? You're Harry Potter, and you're also fucking hot. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Yeah, who wouldn't want a rich, famous, powerful boyfriend?" Harry sighed. "It's just hard to find the people who can look past that. There are many people who want to date the rich and famous Harry Potter, but the few who are able to see past the money usually don't like what they see."

Harry sighed, staring down at his hands in the water.

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't defeated Voldemort," he sighed. "Or at least that I'd had the forethought to take some Polyjuice before doing it."

"I think we all wished for a few doses of Polyjuice at some point during the war. We all wanted to get away from our own lives for a bit."

Without thinking, he rubbed his left forearm, where the mark was still visible, though not as dark as it had once been.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked softly, gesturing at Draco's arm.

"Not physically," he sighed. "What about yours?"

"Well, I did bang it on the filing cabinet when my pen rolled away the other day," Harry said, smiling. "But generally no, it doesn't hurt."

"Always one for the dramatic, aren't you, Potter?" Draco laughed.

The conversation became considerably lighter after that, and Draco had almost forgotten about their awkward moment by the time they made their way back upstairs to change. They were ready to go much earlier than they had planned, and so Pippy forced them down at the table for a delicious tea service before allowing them to leave. Finally, with the bag of gifts slung over Harry's shoulder, they walked into the school lobby.


	6. St. Anne's Primary School Spring Concert

"Harry!" Draco looked around for a moment before he noticed a turquoise blue blur barrelling toward them. A moment later, Harry scooped the young boy into his arms, his smile brighter than anything Draco had ever seen before.

"Teddy, how's it going? All ready for your big debut?"

"Yeah! Do you like my costume?" he stepped back and spread his arms wide, displaying his turquoise coloured dragon suit, complete with a turquoise blue mop of hair. Draco couldn't help wondering if the child's powers ever acted up in a Muggle school, or if his aunt ever received comments about letting her charge "dye his hair".

"It's incredible! You look just like a real Dragon!" Draco thought that was stretching it. The child looked nothing like a real dragon, but he could understand why Harry would have said so anyway.

"Uncle Charlie said that too!"

"Well then if Uncle Charlie said it, it's official. You have the best dragon costume out there," Harry said proudly.

"Teddy!" called a shockingly familiar voice. Draco looked up and did a double take. His first instinct was to run — who the hell had resurrected his Aunt Bella? But as the witch got closer, Draco realised that her hair was a dark brown rather than jet black and that her eyes were hazel, like his mother's had been, instead of the evil yellow that had pierced his soul so many times during the war.

"Teddy, your teacher said you need to go join the class for one last practice," his aunt said, ruffling her grandson's hair.

"Okay! You're gonna watch, right Harry?" he asked. Harry nodded happily.

"Of course I am, I have my ticket right here! And I bought tickets for the whole family too, so we'll all be there to cheer you on."

"YAAAYYY!!!" Teddy ran off down the hall cheering. Draco couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm, though his smile faded quickly when his aunt turned to him.

"Draco."

"Aunt Andromeda," he said quietly. "It's, um, nice to finally meet you."

She didn't say anything in return, contemplating him quietly. He did his best not to fidget under her gaze, waiting for her to finally say something.

"You're here to watch the children perform?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Yeah, I invited him," Harry piped up.

"So I heard. I must say, I was very surprised at what I read in the paper this morning."

Harry's face darkened.

"It's all a load of tosh, you know Skeeter is always making things up."

"Yes. Mind you, I wouldn't have been disappointed if some of it was true," she said gently. Just then, the large red doors to their right opened up, and parents and families started making their way inside. Harry and Draco followed Andromeda to the third row, where most of the Weasleys were already seated. Thankfully, the three of them were at the end of the row, and Draco was able to take the aisle seat, with only Harry to his right.

While the show wasn't of Broadway quality, Draco had to admit it was adorable. They seemed to be working their way up from the youngest children to the eldest, which made sense as the parents of the little ones seemed to be claiming their children and taking them home as the older groups came on to perform. The quality of the show became much more complex as the groups got progressively older, ranging from choreographed dances to poetry readings, and finally, when Teddy's class came on stage, a play telling the story of a dragon and a knight who became best friends and went on an adventure to save the forest.

While Draco had noticed Fleur gliding up to the stage to collect what looked like her younger daughter, rather than leaving, they had simply resumed their seats to watch the older children perform. These groups, however, were not collected at the end of the performance, and instead, led off stage. As the evening wound down and the head teacher made her closing remarks thanking everyone for attending, Harry explained that the older children were sitting in their classroom playing games and watching moving pictures rather than leaving, so that there was still a bit of an audience left for the last class who was performing. The crowd wandered back out into the hall, where children were now running around looking for their parents, or else whining that they were tired or hungry. Draco made sure to stick close to Harry, especially when they left the building to join the entire Weasley clan on the deserted field.

"Harry! Did I do good?" Teddy asked as he wound his way through the group to get back to his godfather.

"You were brilliant!" Harry cried, giving him a hug. "In fact, you were so good, I think we should all go out to dinner to celebrate. What do you think?"

"Yeah!" Teddy said excitedly. "Can we go to Billy Burgers?"

Draco was willing to bet everything he had (which didn't seem like much, but it was the intention that counted) that Harry had been about to say yes before his aunt stepped in.

"Teddy, we talked about this. We can't go to places like that for celebrating, especially with Harry. We'll go somewhere nice, like the Harmony Table."

Draco frowned, unable to tell if Harry looked more disappointed or Teddy. No one else seemed to notice though — they all started nodding and murmuring in agreement.

"Yes, Harmony Table sounds like a good idea," one of the Weasleys (the one with the horn-rimmed glasses who used to work for Umbridge) said. "We'll all meet there, shall we?"

One by one, each couple and their children Disapparated until finally, it was just Harry, Draco, Andromeda and Teddy who were left.

"We'll see you there, boys. Hold tight, Teddy."

They disappeared with a pop. Harry turned to offer his arm to Draco, looking defeated.

"What was wrong with the place Teddy suggested?" Draco asked curiously.

"It wasn't expensive enough," Harry grumbled. "It's his favourite place to eat, but I never get to go with him because everyone else always insists that I should be eating in high-end places. I snuck out to go see it on my own once, and it was amazing. They have a little jungle gym for children, and they hand out small toys with meals. I would love to take him to a place like that, but instead, we'll be sitting in a dimly lit restaurant with servers hovering over us all evening, eating dishes that neither Teddy nor I can pronounce. Anyway, we'd better get going. There's no way we're going to get a space big enough for everyone at the last minute unless I'm there to throw more money and fame around."

Draco nodded, though his mind was reeling. The loss of his fortune had very much shown him what was really important in life. While he missed having catered meals and fancy clothes, he knew he'd missed his parents and his friends much more. His father had had the same policy of always going to high-end places for dinner. Once he'd been tossed into the muggle world, however, he'd learned about the cheaper, more family-oriented restaurants that normal people took their kids to, and couldn't help wondering what it would have been like to experience things like that with his parents.

He kept thinking about this as the restaurant tripped over themselves to accommodate  _ the great Harry Potter _ and his party of almost 20 people. They were finally seated, Draco once again near the end of the table, though this time he was sitting across from Granger and Weasley (the one who was their age). Harry was sitting next to him, but with Teddy on his other side, Harry was paying no one else any attention whatsoever. Granger nodded politely at him as they sat down, and they made small talk for a moment, but she was soon drawn into a discussion with the others, and Draco was left to his own devices. Which suited him perfectly. He spent some time looking through the menu, ordering a simple (and hopefully light) plate of roast chicken and veggies when the discrete server made his way around the table taking orders.

"I've never tried that here," Harry mused. "Do you think it'll be good?"

Draco shrugged. "I can't say I've ever been here before. I'll let you know when it comes, though."

Harry chuckled before turning his attention back to Teddy. Draco put his menu down, glancing about at the decor, before noticing that Granger's eyes were on him once more. He tried ignoring her, but she was unfortunately persistent.

"You didn't order an appetizer," she observed. Draco's stomach protested just at the mention of having so much food. Three rich meals a day was already making him feel quite bloated; he didn't need appetizers thrown into the mix.

"Let him be, Hermione," Harry sighed, turning back to them. "Draco can have whatever he wants."

"Won't it be awkward when everyone else's starters arrive, and you're just sitting there?" she persisted.

"Not as awkward as it would be if I threw up here. I wouldn't be able to stomach so much food," he admitted.

"Um, so how's work?" Harry said in a valiant effort to change the subject. Granger wasn't impressed.

"Terrible, as always. What's wrong with you that you wouldn't be able to eat a normal amount of food?" she demanded.

"Hermione, leave him alone!" Harry groaned. "You don't have to answer questions that you don't want to, Draco."

"I'm just trying to get to know your  _ boyfriend, _ Harry."

"He's your boyfriend?" Teddy asked loudly from Harry's other side, drawing the attention of the rest of the table.

"No, we... he's just a friend. Aren't you too young to know what a boyfriend is anyway?" Harry asked Teddy, a little hysterical.

"Nope," Teddy said smugly, ripping his dinner roll into pieces.

"Since when are you two friends?" another Weasley (Draco thought he was Fleur's husband) asked.

"I... it's fairly recent," Harry admitted. "I got lost a few days ago, and ran into Draco here, and he was nice enough to show me the way back. As we were walking, we started chatting, and we've just been hanging out since then."

Just then, the servers arrived with the starters for the table, and thankfully most of the family turned back to their own conversations. Granger, however, didn't seem to be done with him yet.

"Would you like to try a bit of this?" she offered, pushing her plate of deep-fried something drenched in a creamy sauce towards him. Draco's stomach did a weird flip at the thought of eating something so rich and was exceedingly glad he'd decided to order something light. He decided that maybe he should take it easy for the rest of the week, sticking to salads and lighter entrees.

"It looks quite too rich, but thank you for offering," he said politely.

"Are you ill?" she asked bluntly. He shook his head, wondering where that question could have come from.

"Then why are you so careful about what you're eating?" she demanded, though she kept her voice low so that the others didn't pay them any mind. "Malfoy, if you're contagious and you make Harry or any of us sick, I swear I'll— "

"Granger, I'm not contagious, and I'm not ill, and I'm not planning anything nefarious. Corner's already threatened and accused me, you don't have to waste your breath."

Granger's face hardened at that.

"He's not the best at his work, that man," she sniffed. "I probably have to redo it myself anyway."

"From what I've seen of him, you're infinitely more competent," Draco said, tipping his water glass towards her. His mother had always told him that flattery would get you everywhere, and it seemed she had been right. Granger softened a bit at his words, and her husband turned his attention to them too.

"Yes, she is. But Harry's more than capable of handling that buffoon. If Hermione joined him, they'd be unstoppable, and no one wants that."

Draco and Harry chuckled at that, and Granger looked like she couldn't decide if she was insulted or flattered. 

“Oh, mate, remind me tomorrow we need to review the Barnard files, something’s not adding up there,” Weasley added as an afterthought. They soon got suck in a conversation about some difficult client or other. Draco hadn’t realised that Weasley was also involved with Harry’s work, though Granger soon helped him out by explaining that Weasley was in charge of Harry’s legal team.

“It lets him work from home a few days a week, so he can keep an eye on Rosie, and it gives Harry a bit of peace of mind to know that there’s someone he can trust watching over all that stuff. We were all surprised when Ron took to business law after Hogwarts, but he’s really gifted with it.”

Just then the small team of servers descended with their entrees, efficiently swapping the starter plates out for larger portions. A glance around the table told Draco that most people had ordered something on the more expensive side: steak, exotic seafood, and delicacies of all sorts were common choices. He wondered if everyone actually enjoyed the meal they’d ordered, or if they’d simply done it because they expected that everything must be expensive with Harry around.

“How’s your, um, chicken?” Granger asked pointedly as she cut into a large salmon fillet that was drenched in some kind of sauce. Draco shuddered at the thought.

“Delicious. The chicken is perfectly done. I must remember to send my compliments to the chef.”

She was still staring at him dubiously as if she didn’t believe a word of what he was saying.

“Would you like to try some?” he offered. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I still don’t believe that you’re fully healthy if you chose  _ that _ out of everything on the menu.”

“Just because it wasn’t expensive doesn’t mean it’s not worth having,” Draco grumbled. “I know I’m the last person you expected to hear that from, but living in poverty for the past few years has definitely taught me a thing or two about the value of money...” He glanced up the table, but everyone else seemed absorbed in their own conversations, so she was the only one who had heard his confession. 

“I’m sure it must have been a shock to go from living in a manor with 30 bedrooms to a house with only three,” she snarled at him. He debated telling her the absolute truth of his current life for a moment and shocking the disdain right off her face. He was feeling incredibly bitter about the waste that he was witnessing here, though he wasn’t sure if his pride was ready to let him sink that low. 

“Actually, my entire flat is only one ten by ten room, but yes, it was quite an adjustment. Space wasn’t as big a change as the food though. My lack of funds has considerably reduced the amount of food I get to eat, so you can stop accusing me of being ill. I’m honestly just not used to three courses per meal anymore or even three meals per day.”

He regretted it the moment he said it. He watched her jaw drop, and rolling his eyes, decided to resort to Harry’s tactic of simply changing the subject. 

“So Weasley is in law, what do you do?” he asked, pushing his carrots around on his plate.

“Malfoy, I’m sorry I pushed yo— ”

“What do you do Granger?” he asked pointedly, hoping she’d get the message that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She considered him for a moment, before launching into an explanation of her many activism campaigns. He listened with half an ear as she explained the history of creature abuse and the systemic discrimination that had been wound so tightly into the Ministry over multiple decades.

Thankfully, the rest of the meal went quickly, and before he knew it the bill had been settled (by Harry, of course), the children had been given their gifts, and everyone was off for the night. Weasley and Granger were just about to disappear, their sleeping daughter cradled in Weasley’s arms, when Granger realised the girl’s pacifier was missing. Since Harry was still chatting about the art kit with Teddy, Draco offered to go back into the restaurant and help her look for it. 

They searched along the long table they’d been seated at, checking the table top and chairs. While Granger ducked under the table to see if it had rolled to the ground, Draco lifted a napkin off the table, only to find the customer copy of the night’s bill. Harry had signed the Gringotts transfer sheet the server had presented to him at the end of the night without so much as glancing at it, but now that he was seeing the total for the meal, Draco couldn’t help feeling a little dizzy. His first thought was that it must be because there had been so many people to feed, but as he scanned the itemized list, he realised that he was the only one who had ordered a meal under 40 Galleons. Merlin, he was extremely lucky if he made 40 Galleons in one weekend. He looked up from the bill as Granger emerged triumphantly from under the table, only to notice that most of the group hadn’t even finished their food. While he himself had been taught to leave a few polite bites on his plate at the end of the meal, a lot of the remaining plates had almost half the meal still sitting there.

“Malfoy, I found it.” It took him a moment to register her words, but he finally turned to find her waving the pink pacifier impatiently.

“Why do you all pressure Harry into spending so much money all the time?” he blurted. Granger looked a little surprised at his question.

“It’s not like he can’t afford it,” she pointed out, frowning.

“Does he really have to spend the money just because he has it, even if it makes him unhappy?”

“Who said he was unhappy?” Granger demanded.

“I… well, maybe unhappy isn’t the right term, but I’ve seen him make a lot of decisions in the past few days that he didn’t really seem happy with. He said it was because everyone always tells him to pick the more expensive options.”

Granger sighed. “Harry grew up with almost nothing. No one ever gave him presents, or took him out for nice dinners, or bought him expensive clothes, not even for special occasions. He doesn’t always feel like he deserves to spend money on the finer things in life, despite the fact that he has more than enough. So we keep pushing him to buy nicer homes, better quality clothes, eat at higher-end restaurants, in the hopes that he’ll build the habit of spending some money for himself.”

“Shouldn’t you be pushing him to spend the money on things he actually wants, though?”

“Who said he doesn’t want these things? He said the food was great tonight.”

“And it was,” Draco agreed. “But he’s also never had the chance to take Teddy to that other place, the Billy thing, because everyone always tells him to come here instead.”

“How do you know that?” Granger asked suspiciously. 

“He said so as we were leaving the school.”

“And  _ why _ would he confide such things in you, rather than his best friends?” she demanded, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

Draco shrugged, deciding that maybe he needed to back down now. After all, it really wasn’t his place to comment on Potter’s life.

“Never mind. Let’s get going.”

He led the way outside, Granger glaring daggers at his back all the way down the hall and out the door. 

“Ready to go?” Weasley said to Granger as they rejoined the group. She nodded, but Teddy suddenly rushed up and patted Weasley’s legs.

“Can I give Rosie a kiss goodnight?” he asked. The adults all smiled down at him as Weasley gently lowered himself to Teddy’s level, his daughter still cradled in his arms. Draco took a step back, not wanting to intrude on the little family moment. He was surprised to find himself joined by his aunt.

“Teddy’s been learning a lot about family relations recently,” she said casually, staring at her grandson. “While they may not be blood relatives, we’ve just taught him that all the Weasleys are his cousins. He thinks of Rose as his sister though, since Harry is godfather to both of them.”

Draco couldn’t help smiling at his little cousin’s logic.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to introducing him to another cousin... if said cousin was amenable. Not having his parents around is confusing for the child. I find that learning about his family helps.”

Draco’s jaw dropped as he realised what she was suggesting. He couldn’t help thinking it was the worst idea he’d heard all week.

“I don’t think I’m the type of person you want to introduce into Teddy’s life,” Draco sighed.

“I daresay that’s my decision and not yours,” she sniffed. “It’s high time the remaining Blacks got to know each other, especially if you’re dating Harry now. It’s what your mother would have wanted.”

That was a low blow. It had been a few years since he last cried about his mother’s death, but all of a sudden, the feeling wasn’t far off. He considered how he could tell her that he wasn’t actually dating Harry and that at the end of the week he’d have to disappear once more. But try as he might, he could think of no way of doing that without admitting that Harry had hired him. Not only would that make him look bad, but if Harry was trying to avoid scrutiny from his own family for not having a date, it would blow his client’s cover too. He had to remember that he was a professional.

“There are a lot of things going on these days that she wouldn’t have wanted,” Draco pointed out. Hoping she’d accept a purposefully vague answer, he added: “Maybe once my life is in a bit of a better place, we can consider meeting for lunch or tea. But right now, trust me when I say you don’t want me in your life.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she insisted. “I don’t subscribe to all the old pureblood ideals, Draco. It doesn’t matter to me if you don’t live in a mansion anymore, or if you have to work now instead of relying on your family’s fortune. In fact, I think it’s rather admirable for you to pick yourself up after everything that’s happened.”

Draco was dying to tell her that he hadn’t picked himself up — not really. He was barely scraping by, and wouldn’t be by Potter’s side for much longer either. He wanted to insist that he’d never be fit to join her little family and that she should just forget about him. He was spared from having to answer, however, when Teddy wandered over to them, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m tired, gran. When are we going home?”

“I guess we should get going now. Did you say goodnight to Harry, and thank him for dinner and the present?”

Teddy shook his head. “He’s arguing with Aunt Hermione about something, and you said I shouldn’t interrupt other people’s conversations.”

“Yes, that was very polite of you. It looks like they might be done, though.”

Draco turned to find Harry giving Granger a hug, though he seemed a bit annoyed with her. Weasley was nowhere to be seen. He must have already taken their daughter home.

“Harry, we’d best be heading out now,” his aunt announced. Harry turned back to them as Granger Apparated away.

“Goodnight, kiddo,” he said affectionately, giving Teddy a hug.

“Thank you for dinner and the present, Harry,” Teddy said sleepily.

“Well, thank you for an amazing show! I’m so proud of you.”

Teddy nodded, putting his hand up to cover a yawn.

“Okay, off to bed with you,” Harry chuckled. “Goodnight, Andy,” he added, standing up and smiling at Andromeda.

“Good night, Harry. Goodnight, Harry’s boyfriend,” Teddy mumbled, waving sleepily as a laughing Andromeda Apparated him away.

Draco stood staring at the spot where they had just disappeared, listening to Harry chuckling.

“Can you imagine what you would have thought if someone had told you back at school that your cousin would one day address you as my boyfriend?”

"I don't know if I'd have been more shocked at the idea of a cousin, of a boyfriend, or of you."

"Personally, I don't think any of those are bad things," Harry said, still smiling.

"Oh, they were to eleven year old me," Draco assured him. "Though I will admit, they don't seem nearly as bad now."

"Is that so?" Harry smirked at him, offering his arm to Disapparate. A moment later, they were back at the hotel.

"For what it's worth," Harry said a minute later as they stood in the silent elevator, "you're not as bad as eleven year old me thought either."

Draco couldn't help smiling at that.

"Though I could do without you insisting to my friends that I'm unhappy," Harry said pointedly as he unlocked the door to the suite. "Especially when you know no such thing."

"I'm sorry," Draco said, though he didn't really mean it. Clearly, he had struck a chord with Granger. "Though if it makes a difference, I did concede to Granger that unhappy was the wrong word."

"You should have become a lawyer," Harry grumbled before his eyes widened as he realised what he said.

"I wanted to," Draco sighed, waving off what he was sure would be a panicked apology from Potter for forgetting that Draco hadn't had much choice in choosing how to earn a living. "I actually very much wanted to do what Weasley does. I received an acceptance to the Lucille Vincent School of Magico-Legal arts in France a few days before the battle of Hogwarts."

"Ron went there," Harry said. "He did a year there, and then they let him finish the rest of the program by owl correspondence. He graduated just as Michael and I were really kicking things into gear, so we asked him to join us, and thank Merlin he said yes. You guys might have been in the same class if you'd been able to go," he added thoughtfully.

"Perhaps..." Draco sighed. "I deferred my acceptance while the dust was settling from the battle since I wasn't sure what would happen next."

"So you could still go?" Harry asked curiously.

"In theory, yes. There's no way I'll ever be able to afford the fees, though. Unfortunately, I'm not in a position to toss money around whenever people tell me I should," he said pointedly. All this talk of a life that could have been was depressing him, and he took no small pleasure in turning the conversation back on Harry.

"It might be a foreign concept to you, but I happen to trust my family," Harry shot back. "They'd never give me bad advice."

"Maybe not on purpose." Draco shrugged. "But were you or Teddy really happy with where we ate tonight? Are you really comfortable living so high up with your fear of heights? Heck, was it really your choice to have monogrammed leather coasters in your suite?"

Harry glared at the offending coasters for a moment, before looking back up at Draco, defiant.

"Those things don't really matter. The important part is that I got to celebrate with Teddy, that I have a place to live, and that I have bloody coasters so that poor Pippy doesn't have to scrub coffee rings off the table every morning."

"They matter because it's not what you want."

"I'm honestly not picky," Harry sighed. "If it makes everyone else happy, then who am I to complain?"

"Do you know what Granger said to me tonight?" Draco said, leaning forward and staring right at Harry. "She said that you had almost nothing growing up and that sometimes you fall back into the mindset that you’re not allowed nice things. That they push you towards the expensive options because they want you to get into the habit of spending money for yourself. But you're sitting here thinking that you're spending the money for them. If you ask me, there's a bit of a disconnect here."

"She shouldn't have told you that," Harry grumbled, looking away. “If you tell anyone,” he started to threaten, but Draco couldn’t help laughing at that.

“Who would I tell? And even better, who would believe me? In case you’d forgotten, I am currently in that position. I have nothing. And it seems like I’ll always be stuck where I am. I’m not judging you for it. I’m impressed that you managed to work your way out of it.”

Harry opened his mouth as if to respond, but no sound came out. He seemed stunned at what Draco had just said. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Draco decided he’d probably rocked the boat enough for one night. 

“I’ll just, um… head to bed,” he said quietly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious again. He stood up from where they’d automatically settled on the sofa, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he was already falling into a routine with Harry.

“I don’t always know if I’m making the right decisions,” Harry said softly, staring at nothing in particular. “I barely make any decisions anymore. Michael makes the decisions at work, and everyone else makes the decisions in my personal life. I can’t be trusted to make the right choice.”

Draco contemplated him for a moment, once again surprised at how little confidence the saviour of the wizarding world had in himself.

“Was it someone else that decided that you wanted to fight the Dark Lord?” Draco asked carefully. “Or was that something you wanted?”

“Of course it was something I wanted,” Harry replied immediately. “I couldn’t let him win.”

Draco nodded. “So you  _ can _ make good decisions. You just need to trust yourself to do so. Once you do, I think you’ll find you’re more capable than you realise.”

Harry was silent again. Deciding to leave him to his thoughts, Draco slipped into his room and closed the door. He’d said a lot of important things to a lot of important people today. He just hoped they would listen.


	7. Bad Business Sense

Harry groaned as he woke up to the bright sunlight streaming in through his balcony. He had been up late the night before thinking about his conversation with Draco. It was strange having the man around. He hadn’t expected Draco to say what he had, either to Harry or to Hermione. It had honestly been a bit shocking when Hermione had cornered him after dinner yesterday and demanded to know if he was happy. 

_ “Harry, are you happy?” she had all but demanded, though her voice remained low. _

_ “I… yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he’d replied, wondering why she hadn’t just gone home with Ron. “Does this have anything to do with Draco?” _

_ “Actually, yes,” she’d admitted, glancing over at the blond, who was talking to Andromeda. _

_ “‘Mione, I told you already, he’s just a friend.” Harry had told her and Ron a few years ago about being asexual. While they had been quite supportive of his identity, they knew about his struggles when it came to dating, and were always a little more wary than necessary of anyone he started to get close to. _

_ “It’s not about you bringing him as a date, though that conversation’s not over either. He said we’re forcing you to spend money where you don’t want to.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I think he was a little shocked at the bill for tonight’s dinner. He found it on the table when we were looking for Rosie’s pacifier. Does it upset you to spend your money?” she pushed. Harry was a little taken aback by her sudden questions. _

_ “I, well... I don’t mind spending my money, especially for people I love, like you guys. It wasn’t my first choice for dinner, but it was still lovely, and if you all enjoyed it, then it was definitely worth it.” _

_ “It wasn’t your first choice?” She’d sounded surprised at that. “Where did you want to go?” _

_ Harry shrugged. “I would have said yes to Teddy’s burger place. It seems to make him so happy. I’d love to see it. But I know you guys don’t think it’s expensive enough, or whatever.” _

_ She’d seemed a little sad at that. He’d thought that it was just another example of him not being able to tell what was good, if he preferred burgers over a fancy sit-down dinner. But then she’d said something that had surprised him.  _

_ “Harry,” she’d said, in that voice that made him feel like a little kid who had misunderstood something she’d said. “It’s not about what’s expensive enough; it’s about doing what makes  _ you _ happy. Regardless of what it costs.” _

Harry considered her words now, as he stared up at the ceiling. True, he didn’t always pick the options that he wanted the most, but it wasn’t like his life was bad. It was a lot more than he could have imagined for himself as a child. He worked hard at a career he loved, and he lived very comfortably. He had friends and family who loved him, and he got on very well with everyone at work too. Well, almost everyone.

Harry rolled over with a sigh as he once again remembered his argument with Michael from two days ago. He really hoped the day off had put Michael in a better mood. Harry was still a little bitter from how rude his partner had been to him, but if Michael had forgotten about it, then he would too.

Of course, if Michael was still feeling snippy, that could be a problem for them. They were meeting Robertson for brunch in a few hours, and could hopefully finalise the contract to take over Elvenshire Group of Companies once and for all. But Harry knew that Michael didn't like Robertson. The elderly man loved talking, often veering off on a tangent and getting rather upset if anyone interrupted him. Over multiple meetings with him and his son, Harry had learnt how to steer the tangents back onto the topic at hand, but Robertson was still being stubborn about his demands, which, in Michael's opinion, were ridiculous requests.

It was inevitable that when Harry and Michael bought out Elvenshire, there would have to be some lay-offs. Which wasn't the issue (though Harry still felt extremely guilty about it); even Robertson knew that if he didn't sell, he would have to declare bankruptcy, which would mean having to lay off  _ all _ his employees. The obvious solution was for Harry and Michael to buy him out, in which case at least half of them could keep their livelihood. But Robertson was insisting that they pay the employees who were turned away rather large compensation packages, more than double the industry standard. Harry personally didn't see what was wrong with doing so — he'd run the numbers, and they could definitely afford it. But Michael kept insisting that it wasn't their problem and that Robertson would just have to deal with the standard lay-off packages. Harry didn't like it, but he'd spent so much time and effort on this deal that at this point he felt ready to settle for anything. He just hoped his partner wouldn't upset Robertson and push the deal back even further.

Glancing at the clock on his bedside table (and trying not to look past it at the London Skyline), Harry slid out of bed and ambled over to his wardrobe in search of appropriate clothes for the day.

An hour later, he was being seated in the private room of Wilansky Bistro. As usual, he and Draco had been the first to arrive. The hostess had just brought them coffee and tea when Michael and Jacob walked in.

"Morning," Harry said tentatively as they sat down. Jacob smiled brightly up at him, and Michael responded with a lazy "hey". Harry sighed softly, relieved that Michael seemed to be in a good mood.

"So, Robertson should be here any minute," Michael said, already down to business. "I'm pretty sure he's about to break, so we really just need to sweet talk him into actually signing today."

He started adding cream to his coffee, not even thanking the server as she placed it in front of him. As she left, he glanced up at Harry.

"That's what you're good for. Talking to the clients dumb enough to fall for niceties. I think maybe I'll disappear for a bit so that you can work your magic, or whatever it is that you do. Maybe I should take Malfoy with me. Don't want you scaring him off," he sneered at Draco. Harry felt Draco stiffen beside him, but thankfully he didn't say anything. Even Jacob was looking a little alarmed at Michael's rude tone, but if everyone managed to keep to themselves until Robertson was gone, Harry promised himself he'd make it up to Draco after.

"Fine, I'll talk to Robertson," Harry agreed.

"You'd better stay here too," Michael said to Jacob. "Help Harry out if he gets stuck in another tangent."

Jacob and Harry smiled apologetically at each other; they both knew how Michael could be when he was in a strop. Harry glanced at Draco, who was keeping his face carefully blank. He was sure Draco agreed with the Finkleys. Heck, Harry had even entertained it himself a time or two. But surely he couldn't betray Michael, after all they'd been through together.

"Boys, good to see you again!"

Harry stood up immediately to greet the Robertsons. The meeting started pleasantly enough, with the six of them discussing the Quodpot tournament and the recent bout of warm weather they'd been having. Harry could see Michael getting bored as Robertson started telling them about his tulip garden. Deciding now was as good a time as any, he turned back to Robertson, hoping to bring up the contract.

"I always say, spring's a perfect time for new beginnings. The season of change, we used to call it!" Robertson said jovially.

"Too right you are, Mr. Robertson," Harry said, smiling at his enthusiasm for his garden. "Since you brought up new beginnings, and change, however, I was hoping maybe we could revisit the contract for the buyout?" 

It wasn't his smoothest work, but it seemed Robertson had been successfully diverted. He noticed Michael sitting up straighter all of a sudden, and hoped he wouldn't ruin Roberston's good mood.

"Ah, that was a clever segue, my boy. But you're right, we're not here for me to ramble on about my garden, though the invitation to come see it still stands. No, you young men are all focused on the money, aren't you?"

Harry smiled apologetically, reaching into his bag to pull out the green folder that had been dogging his dreams for weeks now.

"So last time we settled on the overall buyout and the conditions for legal transfer. I think the only thing we weren't really seeing eye to eye on was the compensation packages," Harry stated, offering the folder to Robertson. "We've reviewed the offer since the last time we met, and we've decided we can accommodate a two percent increase for all the packages."

Robertson contemplated this for a moment.

"So now we're bartering over the livelihood of employees who've spent decades working for us, in some cases, helping to build Elvenshire Group of Companies."

"I know you don't like it," Harry sighed. "I don't think there is an ideal option, really."

Robertson glanced around the table.

"Gentlemen, could I perhaps talk to Harry alone for a moment?" he sighed. Michael and Draco nodded and got up, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Jacob.

"You too, David," Robertson said to his son, who excused himself to go make a floo call.

"I visited the Godric's Hollow office yesterday," Robertson said, once they were finally alone. "You might know it, I know you live there."

Harry nodded. It was right on the town square, a couple of blocks down from the cemetery.

"I had the pleasure of speaking with their office administrator, Cathy. Charming young woman, she's been with us for about three years now."

Harry thought he could see where this was going, but he kept listening.

"She told me about her daughter, Odette. The young girl is about eight years old. It's just the two of them, but Cathy said she's happy the way it is. Her daughter goes to the local primary school, and is ever so excited to start Hogwarts in a couple of years."

Harry smiled. "She'll be in the same class as my godson, Teddy."

"Yes, she will. But where I'm sure you'll want nothing but the best for young Teddy, little Odette is going to have to show up in second-hand robes, with a trunk full of used books and a worn cauldron. That's how it is with single parent families. Cathy's income is still enough to make ends meet and to feed her daughter. But if they're already cutting corners with a salary..." he looked up at Harry, considering him for a moment. "She said that if she gets laid off and can't find another job... she might have to delay sending Odette to Hogwarts for a year."

"You're telling me this because you think I should be offering the people we'll have to lay off more," Harry sighed.

"I am. But it's also because I think you're the only one out of your partnership who understands that. I'm not blind, Harry. I know that Malfoy and Gomes have no actual say in your business affairs, and I know Corner is a heartless wretch. I would tell you to leave him and go off on your own, but you're like your grandfather. Exceedingly loyal, almost to a fault."

Harry's eyes widened. Robertson had known his grandfather?

"We were at Hogwarts together," Robertson chuckled, smiling at Harry. "He was a good friend and a good businessman. Quite like you. I know for a fact he, and your parents after him, left you a sizable inheritance from his potions business."

Harry nodded. He had invested a good chunk of his family money when he and Michael were starting out and had been relieved to see it pay off. Since Michael hadn't had a single Knut to invest, Harry's income had initially grown exponentially faster than Michael's. Although they were paying themselves equally, Harry was also earning a return on his initial investment. He'd offered to waive it, and put them on a more even field, but Michael had insisted there was some kind of legal restriction on doing things like that. Harry sometimes wondered if Michael resented the fact that he was considerably richer, despite the fact that Michael himself was incredibly well off.

"He did so well because his potions were quite brilliant. But once demand started booming, he enlisted another classmate of ours to help him with the business side of things. After a few years, the man became rather more a hindrance than a help. We all told him to cut ties, but Fleamont wouldn't hear it. It took a few years for Euphemia to finally convince him to venture off on his own, and for a few years, he was much happier and much more successful. Of course, it was short lived because of their tragic deaths, but he sold the company for a tidy sum right as your parents graduated Hogwarts."

"So you're telling me I should stop working with Michael?" Harry sighed, fiddling with the corner of his napkin.

"It's what I think you should do. But you're the only one who knows if that really is the right decision for you."

They were silent for a moment, before Robertson picked up the folder, and thumbed through it.

"I'll want a day for my legal team to go over this," Robertson sighed. "But if you're willing to come by my office tomorrow, I'll sign for the two percent increase."

Harry looked up at him, amazed that he'd agreed. He'd for sure thought that Robertson would insist on more.

"I am curious though, what your thoughts are on the subject?" Robertson said primly. "If you didn't have Corner whispering in your ear all the time, what would you have said to my request?"

Harry considered him for a moment, deciding to tell the truth. "I would have agreed. I know it's bad business sense, but I wouldn't— "

"It's not bad business sense to be a good person, Harry," Robertson cut him off. "You can give yourself a little credit. Anyway, I'd better get going. I'll leave you lads to finish your brunch in peace, maybe celebrate closing another contract."

Harry nodded, even though he didn't feel much like celebrating. He followed Robertson to the lounge near the front of the bistro, where the others were waiting. They saw the Robertsons off, before heading back to their table. It took a minute for Harry to snap out of his funk, but when he did, he noticed that Michael had a rather evil grin on his face and that Draco seemed upset.

"So, what did the old fart say?" Michael demanded as they resumed their seats. "I hope you didn't give him more of an increase."

Harry shook his head, wondering why Michael felt the need to be so rude about the people they worked with.

"His legal team is reviewing the contract. I'll go pick up the signed copy tomorrow."

"Excellent!" Michael crowed, stopping a passing server and demanding a bottle of champagne. "So it turns out you are good at something," he laughed. Harry gave a forced chuckle, but all of a sudden he couldn't wait to be away from Michael. Thankfully, he had planned to work from the hotel for the rest of the day and would only be going back to the office for about an hour to check in with Ron.

Their 'celebration' didn't last long; Harry wasn't in the mood for it, and Draco was being weirdly stiff. Jacob was also being fairly quiet, clearly picking up on Draco and Harry's moods. Before long, Draco and Jacob disappeared into the floo, and it was just them left.

"You're not coming back to the office, are you?" Michael asked as Harry signed the bill.

"I am, but only for a little bit. Ron wanted to go over a couple of things, but it shouldn't take us more than an hour."

He didn't miss the way Michael relaxed when he said he'd be leaving. Harry tried to push the hurt feeling aside — clearly Michael didn't enjoy having him around anymore.

Ron was already waiting when they got back to the office. Michael slipped into his own office without so much as a hello to him, closing his door with a soft snick. Harry sighed, unlocking his own door and letting Ron in.

"Bad morning?" Ron asked as he sat down on Harry's couch.

"It shouldn't have been," Harry sighed, glancing over his shoulder to check that he had closed the door properly. He'd learnt the hard way that leaving it open, even just a crack, deactivated all the silencing charms on it.

"Didn't you guys meet Robertson again?"

"Yeah. He agreed to the raise, took the contract back for his legal team to look over."

Ron snorted. "My team does an excellent job. He's not going to find anything to nit-pick about."

"I know," Harry assured him. "I think he's more worried that Michael would have slipped some ridiculous clause in there without pointing it out."

"I don't blame him." Ron shrugged. It was no secret that Ron and Michael did not like each other, and it usually fell to Harry to keep the peace.

"Anyway, it's not important. He agreed to sign, and I believe him. What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"These." Ron handed over a grey folder. Harry flipped it open to find a couple of contracts.

"What are these?" Harry asked, not recognising any of the titles.

"Some of our most junior legal assistants, mostly the ones who don't report directly to me, have been reviewing contracts that are a bit above their job descriptions recently. One of them mentioned in her year-end review that she 'appreciated the opportunity to work on a more challenging project'. It sounded odd to me, so I called her in and asked her for a look at those so-called projects."

He indicated the folder in Harry's hands. "These are all the contracts that she and the other assistants have been reviewing recently. I've never heard of any of them."

"Me either," Harry said with a frown. He flipped open the one on the top of the pile. It seemed oddly worded, but what really surprised him was the signature on the last page.

"I don't remember signing this Ron," Harry said carefully. The signature on the bottom of the page looked identical to his, and it even had his name printed underneath. Glancing at the rest of the page, Harry realised Michael's name and signature were nowhere to be seen. It was rare that he ever signed a contract without Michael on it as well.

"I'm taking these to Gringotts as soon as we're done here," Ron said grimly. "It's gonna cost an arm and a leg, but I'm going to have them verify the magical signature on these papers. If it was anyone other than you, their magic will probably still be stuck to the contract. The goblins' reports can't be falsified, so it'll make a pretty solid case in court to get you out of these contracts.”

Harry’s head was spinning. 

“But what are they?” he asked, still trying to make sense of the legal jargon.

“They’re mostly all new ventures, start-up projects. Basically, the contracts are to take out loans from international bankers to fund a bunch of new ideas, which as far as I can tell were sold as soon as they started doing well. Your signature is more as a backer — if any of these projects had failed, you would have been on the hook for paying the loans back.”

“They’ve all done well?” Harry asked, surprised.

“The ones that have already been sold, yes. You can’t be on the hook for those loans anymore. But there’s one that’s still in the making, and honestly, from the little I can find, it’s not going to end well.”

“So if we can’t prove that my signature was forged— ”

“Harry, that won’t happen. If it wasn’t actually you who signed, the goblins will be able to tell.”

“Just humour me,” Harry insisted. “Say you hadn’t found these. What could have happened?”

“Harry, the way these deals were handled, at best they can be considered quasi-legal. I know the Ministry usually turns a blind eye as long as they’re not causing problems. But the latest venture, if it fails… well, you’d be on the hook for almost 65 million Galleons, and the Ministry would definitely get involved, if not the entire International Confederation of Wizards. This could  _ ruin _ you.”

Harry paled at that. Even for the richest man in Europe, that was a ridiculously large amount of money. If he squeezed together every last Knut he had and sold the clothes right off his back, he  _ might _ be able to cap that. But even worse than that was the thought that someone had been using his name for these odd (and potentially disastrous) deals.

“How long will it take the goblins to figure out who’s responsible for this?” Harry growled.

“Umm, the goblins can probably get them all done by tomorrow. But Harry, I think I know who’s behind all this. The way these contracts are worded, you would take the fall if the venture failed. But if it’s successful, the money from the sale would go to,” Ron hesitated, taking a deep breath and looking right at Harry, “It would go to Michael.”

Harry’s head was spinning. That couldn’t be right. Michael wouldn’t do something like that to him.

“Um, Lara, the assistant who showed me the contracts, confirmed that it was Michael who gave them to her,” Ron said softly. Harry didn’t want to believe it, but as he flipped frantically through the documents as if to dissuade Ron, he noticed clauses here and there naming Michael as a beneficiary of something or other. Harry wasn’t a legal expert — heck, he’d never even finished his NEWTs — but he knew enough to be able to understand  _ that _ . 

“Fuck, Ron, what do I do?” Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“It’s kind of obvious mate. You cut him loose, sue his worthless arse, and then hand him over to Ginny and the other Aurors for fraud.”

“Can I really do that to him though?” Harry sighed. “It seems like everyone’s been telling me to give up on him recently.”

“And now it turns out they were all right,” Ron said angrily. “Harry, he’s been using you for years now. If any of these had gone south, he would probably have disappeared to some remote island in the Caribbean and left you to deal with the fallout. Forget the money, these contracts could have landed you in Azkaban! He’s a fraud and a thief.”

Harry glanced at the window, thinking hard. Surely if he just talked to Michael, he’d have a reasonable explanation. Michael was always doing things Harry didn’t quite understand. Maybe this was just another project they’d talked about, and Harry hadn’t fully understood. Michael must have needed to sign while Harry was away, which was why he forged his signature. Yes, that had to be it.

“Harry, I can see your brain working. Don’t talk to him, he’s just going to make up excuses and make you feel guilty. I’m going to take these to Gringotts, and then I’m going to go home and get started on the paperwork to end your partnership. Working with Michael’s just going to get you into hot water. And before you say anything, consider the thousands of employees, investors, and clients that you’ll be dragging down with you if you don’t do something right now.”

Harry felt like he was deflating as he realised Ron was right. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, contemplating what to do next. He could easily avoid Michael for the next day or two and just work from home. Once Ron had everything set, they could go talk to Ginny and report everything Michael had been doing. As Deputy Head Auror, she was bound to handle the case quickly and carefully. If all went well, Harry might not have to lose seven years worth of hard work in one weekend. 

“Fine, do what you have to,” Harry said. He put his glasses back on and stood up.

“Anything else I need to do or know about?” he asked, reaching for the floo powder.

“Just don’t say anything about this until I tell you. To  _ anyone. _ That includes Malfoy.”

“Ron, he’s not up to anything,” Harry insisted, feeling way too tired to have this conversation right now.

“I never said he was. I’m not even going to tell ‘Mione. It’s for their safety, not ours. Though since we’re here, maybe you can tell me about whatever deal it is you’ve made with Malfoy.”

“I… what?” Harry’s eyes widened as he turned to face Ron.

“Mate, I’m not stupid. Everyone knows that the whole  _ we’re just friends who ran into each other _ story is full of Hippogriff shit, but as your best friend, I also know that you can’t actually be dating him either.”

“I can still date people, you know, even if I— ”

“Harry, it’s got nothing to do with your sexuality. He acts more like your assistant than your boyfriend. Like he’s there because he has to be, not because he wants to.”

Harry glared at Ron, annoyed that his best friend could read him so well. He had already told Michael. Surely he could tell Ron too?

“Hermione and I actually have a bet going,” Ron continued before Harry could make up his mind. “She thinks Malfoy’s an escort, but I’m betting you just promised to help his image by being seen in public with him. Whatever it is mate, just make sure you’re both really clear on what’s expected. You don’t want him coming after you ten years from now claiming you promised him your first born child or something.”

Harry nodded. He was sure his voice had deserted him, so he didn’t even attempt to speak. With one last glance at Ron, he stepped into the floo and vanished.

He nodded gruffly at the Aurors standing in the lobby before making his way upstairs. He wondered for a moment if maybe Draco would want to go back down to the hot tub again. Harry knew he wasn’t going to get any work done tonight, and any distractions from the thought of Michael would be very welcome.

Something felt off, though, as he stepped into his suite. Draco was curled up on the couch, reading a book, but he barely glanced up as Harry joined him in the living room. Harry flopped down on the other couch with a sigh, loosening his tie and flinging it over the armrest.

“Whatchya reading?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded casual. Draco raised his book, allowing Harry to read the title briefly, before putting it back down against his own armrest and continuing to read, facing slightly away from Harry. He couldn’t help the distinct feeling that Draco was mad at him for some reason.

“I wonder what the kitchens will send up for lunch,” Harry said, trying to diffuse the tension. He had enough on his mind without having to worry about Draco also being in a snit.

“Steak and mash,” Draco said curtly. “It was good. Pippy said she’d bring yours whenever you got home.”

Right on cue, Pippy popped up beside him, asking if Harry was ready for lunch. He nodded, unsure why he was annoyed at the fact that Draco had eaten without him. It wasn’t as if they’d signed some kind of contract that stipulated that they had to do everything together. He’d told Draco he was free to do whatever he wanted in his spare time.

As he sat down in front of a beautifully laid-out plate, Harry couldn’t help hearing Ron’s voice, cautioning him to lay down terms with Draco about what was and wasn’t expected. He was sure Ron had been joking about Harry owing Draco his first child ten years from now, but it really wouldn’t do for him to keep getting his hopes up that Draco would want to have meals with him or spend his free time with him. 

If he was being honest, Harry had started getting used to having the company during his downtime. He liked having someone to talk with, someone who laughed and joked with him. Draco had been a great companion since he’d come to stay — that was, until today. Harry frowned as he mulled over what could have happened to put Draco in a bad mood. His displeasure then turned out to be due to the fact that he could apparently read Draco’s moods. They’d only been staying together for four days. 

Harry sighed as he realised that maybe he did need to start taking this dating thing seriously if he was getting this desperate for companionship. He hadn’t the first clue where to start looking for a date though. Maybe he could ask Hermione to set him up with someone. He shuddered at the idea, but he had to admit he had nothing else in mind.

All the thoughts of having to date someone were stressing Harry out even more. Finally giving up on his lunch, he made his way back over to the couch.

“Um, I was thinking of going back down to the hot tub again today, you know, take some time to relax and all. Do you wanna come with?”

Draco glanced up at him and shook his head carefully.

“No, I’m quite alright, thank you,” he said softly. Harry noticed a bit of a blush creeping up Draco’s cheeks and suddenly felt bad that he might have embarrassed Draco by bringing up the hot tub. Casting around for something to do, Harry picked up a magazine from the coffee table and sat down across from Draco. He opened the magazine but paid it no attention as his thoughts continued to wander. It might have been hours later (or maybe only five minutes, he couldn’t be sure) when Draco finally stood up.

“I could use some fresh air,” he mumbled. “Going to sit on the balcony.”

Harry paled at the thought, but couldn’t help staring as Draco made his way over to the double doors, letting himself out into the sunshine and the crisp breeze. His heart was pounding as Draco approached the railing, leaning against it and staring out at the city. He felt dizzy just watching.

Harry forced his eyes back down to the magazine, only to find he’d been reading it upside down the entire time. He closed it and flung it back on the table, glancing up again in time to see Draco take a seat at the patio set and pull out his book once more.

Harry kept staring, unable to shake the feeling that Draco was upset with him. The question though, was  _ why _ ? What could Harry possibly have done to make him all frosty like this?

It took another ten minutes to build up his courage, but Harry finally forced himself off the sofa and onto the patio. In the seven years he’d owned the place, Harry hadn’t set foot on the balcony once, but once he was out there, he felt entirely justified in that decision. This was  _ terrifying. _ There was no other way to describe it. Trying desperately to focus only on his feet, he shuffled to the patio set where Draco was sitting. He glanced up to find his guest staring at him with wide eyes, but quickly looked back down at his shoes, unwilling to accidentally see past the railing. 

"I don't know what I did to upset you," Harry said quickly. "But I want to make it right. Please, just tell me how."

He waited as Draco heaved a heavy sigh.

"It's nothing. I'm just being childish," Draco finally said. "I'm sorry, you don't need to worry about it."

"I'm sure it's not nothing, Draco." Harry took a deep breath and looked up at Draco. That quickly proved to be a big mistake, as he took in the endless expanse of London beneath them.  _ Far _ beneath them. Feeling dizzy, Harry focused on the tabletop instead.

"Um, do you want to go back inside and talk?" Draco suggested. Harry nodded gratefully. He shot up out of his seat, turning back towards the door, but at the last moment he looked up. Harry stumbled, feeling dizzy at the sight of rows upon rows of buildings and streets, of tiny little dots that he knew were people walking around and enjoying a warm spring day. He was just considering getting to the floor and crawling back into the apartment when he felt an arm on his elbow. Draco guided him back indoors and set him down on the couch before taking a seat opposite him.

"You really have a serious issue with heights, don't you?"

Harry nodded, glad to be surrounded by four solid walls again. He took a deep breath and looked up at Draco.

"So, what's wrong?"

Draco twisted his fingers in his lap.

"I just... I wish you hadn't told Corner what I do for a living."

"Oh." Harry hadn’t been expecting that. How had Draco even found out that Harry had told Michael? He considered his guest, who was staring quietly at his lap. The memory of Michael calling Draco a whore floated to the front of Harry’s mind, and he suddenly had no doubts that Michael must have said something equally rude and degrading to Draco at some point. Probably that very morning, while Harry had been talking to Robertson.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have told him. Did he say something to you?”

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s not any different from what most people who know say about me.”

“I’m guessing from your tone it was something offensive?” Harry pried, curious to know what Michael would have said. Had he taunted Draco? Threatened him? Harry could feel himself getting worked up again, just thinking of that arsewipe of a man.

“He, um, he told me I should ditch you and go spend the weekend with him. He made some odd comments about you, actually, I didn’t really understand it.”

“About me?” Harry repeated, dazed. He could only imagine the shit Michael might have said to Draco. Had he outed Harry?

“He said something about showing me a better time than you could, said he could fuck me like a real man. I don’t know. It was odd,” Draco said hurriedly, probably in response to the outraged look that Harry was sure had found its way onto his face. “I find that arseholes like him who feel the need to brag to a prostitute about their prowess in bed are usually terrible fucks, but anyway, that’s beside the point. I turned him down, which I think really pissed him off. He started threatening that if I didn’t disappear the day you go back to Godric’s Hollow, he’d tell the world what I do for a living.”

Harry scowled. “He shouldn’t have— ”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Draco said, probably worried that Harry was going to lose his temper. “I hear shit like that all the time; I’m used to it.”

Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to twist his face into something more gentle. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I shouldn’t have said anything to him, and he shouldn’t have said anything to you.”

Draco nodded, and they fell back into silence for a moment. It wasn’t a very comfortable silence, however, and Harry was still feeling guilty for how Michael had treated Draco.

“Let me make it up to you,” Harry blurted suddenly. “Name something you want to do or see or have or even eat. Anything at all.”

“Harry, you don’t have to— ”

“I insist,” Harry said firmly. “Please.”

Draco stared at him for a moment, clearly thinking hard. Finally, he cleared his throat, glancing away from Harry.

“I, uh, I’ve always been curious about Muggle cinemas,” he mumbled.

“That’s brilliant. Let me take you to see a film tonight. We can go out for dinner afterwards as well.”

“Won’t people talk if they see us out and about together? They’re already speculating in the newspaper,” Draco pointed out. Harry realised he couldn’t quite bring himself to care, and said as much.

“If it bothers you, we can stick to Muggle areas,” he offered, more as an afterthought than anything. He watched Draco carefully, hoping the man would accept. Harry really wasn't in the mood to stay in and work tonight, and something told him Draco could use some fun too.

"Well, if you insist," Draco sighed, though his eyes clearly betrayed his excitement. "When do you want to go?"

"How about we go in the evening?" Harry suggested. "Around five-ish?"

Draco nodded, before settling back onto the couch and picking up his book again. As he picked up his own folder, Harry was relieved to find that the atmosphere in the room seemed a lot less tense. At least something was going right today.


	8. Knockturn Alley

Draco had never quite gotten used to how many people existed in the Muggle world.

It might have had something to do with the fact that he was usually only out and about during the late evening and night time, when the streets weren’t quite so crowded. Or maybe he was just feeling oddly self-conscious being out and about with  _ the Harry Potter _ . Not that Potter really acted differently from any other man. Draco had to admit, he was liking Potter more and more with each passing day. He'd been incredibly surprised when Potter had forced himself out onto the balcony to apologize to Draco, even though he'd clearly been scared to death.

And then he'd taken Draco to see a Muggle film. Draco had seen the cinemas in his years of wandering the streets, looking for clients. The groups going in and out had always seemed so excited, and the bright lights advertising each new film had always caught his eye. Sometimes he'd make up a story in his own head based off the posters he'd see for new releases. He was sure his stories were nothing like what they showed inside, but it was the most entertainment he'd had in seven years.

What he'd been really curious about, however, was the smell. Something inside all the cinemas smelled  _ delicious, _ and he'd been dying to know what it was. He'd never dared to go in and find out, having heard that movie theaters overcharged for everything.

So of course, once he was finally inside, dressed in proper trousers and a shirt rather than a corset and a thin robe, he'd barely been able to contain his excitement. He'd quickly found out that the smell was from a Muggle snack called popcorn. Harry bought them each a bag, along with multiple bags of some oddly shaped candies and chocolates. They had been very sweet compared to the usual Honeydukes’ fare, but Draco had enjoyed it, nonetheless.

But the highlight of the evening had definitely been the film itself. It was the story of a young woman trying to fit in at her new job with a fast-paced fashion magazine. Draco had given Harry many pointed looks throughout the movie, especially when someone on screen despaired at a terrible fashion choice, which had led to Harry laughing at the most inappropriate times. They were still chuckling as they made their way out of the theater and down the road to what Harry swore was the best kebab place in all of London. Having never had kebabs before, Draco left Harry to order and went to find an empty plastic table near the window for them.

"I didn't think I'd like a movie about fashion so much," Harry commented as he set down two trays of steaming hot food.

"Fashion was just the industry they decided to show," Draco pointed out. "The message from the movie was about overworking yourself at the expense of your own personal well-being."

Harry smirked at him. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not stupid. I got that, and I also got your many unsubtle hints that that's how my life is going."

"Trust me, it's not a popular belief to assume that you're stupid. The whole world thinks you're this great genius for defeating the Dark Lord and then becoming this huge business tycoon."

Harry shrugged, taking a bite out of his wrap. The sauce dripped all down his hands, making Draco regard his own supper warily.

"I had them put less sauce and more vegetables in yours, to make it a bit lighter," Harry said as if reading his mind.

"Thank you," he said gratefully, taking a tentative bite. There was still a fair amount of sauce that dribbled out, though it was nowhere near as much as what had just fallen onto Harry's tray. He was surprised to find that it was delicious. "How can you have good ideas like this," he gestured at his tray, "and assume that people think you're stupid?"

Harry shrugged, taking another messy bite of his food. "Seems to be a common theme these days," he said cryptically.

"Did something happen at work?" Draco asked. Harry's expression hardened, telling Draco that he had absolutely hit the nail on the head. "Was it Corner?" he prodded.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry grumped, shoving a couple of chips into his mouth. Draco waited patiently for him to swallow, before continuing.

"It might make you feel better," he said lightly. He looked up to find Harry glaring at him. He put his hands up in surrender, reaching for his own chips and dipping one into the wrap to coat it in the sauce. They continued to eat in silence for a bit, listening to the static-y radio playing on the counter. Finally, Harry spoke up.

"I'm not allowed to tell you the details, it's a whole legal mess," he sighed. Draco's eyes widened as he realised Harry was talking about whatever had happened at work that day. "I just... He doesn't trust me at all, you know? He acts as if I'm a child who can't understand how the world works. Today just showed me that everyone was right. Ron, Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Finkley, Mr. Robertson... you."

"Well, wonders never cease to amaze. Harry Potter of all people, admits that I was right!" Draco declared playfully. "Now if only I knew what I was right about."

Harry glared at him, though it was obvious he was trying very hard to hide a smile.

"You can't tell  _ anyone _ . But Michael and I won't be working together anymore."

"Well. What made you see sense, finally?" Draco asked, hoping his tone was still casual, despite the pounding in his chest. This was big news. All sense of self-preservation flew out the window as his old, gossip-hungry self reared its head, looking for more information.

"I told you, I can't share the details. It's for your own safety. I don't know how he's going to react, and I don't want him to drag you into it, claiming you had a part in this."

Okay, that sounded very serious. Draco considered changing the topic. If this was going to become a full-blown problem, the less involved he was, the better. But something made him pursue the conversation.

"So, he doesn't know yet?"

Harry shook his head. "I feel like a coward going behind his back like this. I mean, logistically I understand why we have to, but..."

"If it's not too forward of me to say, he's a horrible person. I've known him for less than a week, and I can already tell that if you hadn't gone behind his back he would have done everything in his power to make things more difficult for you out of pure spite." Corner may have sorted Ravenclaw, but Draco knew a Slytherin when he saw one. Anyway, everyone knew Ravenclaws were either hopeless romantics or senseless sociopaths. There was no in between.

Harry stared at the now mangled remains of his dinner, quietly absorbing what Draco had just said. Satisfied that he had made his point, Draco turned his attention back to his wrap, contemplating how to eat the end of it, where all the sauce seemed to have pooled, without ruining his clothes. He had just come to the conclusion that the hotel's laundry staff had better know some really good cleaning charms when Harry pushed his tray away.

"I'm done," he sighed, picking up a couple of napkins and wiping off his fingers one by one. "Take your time though," he added hastily, noticing that Draco still had half his chips and a bit of his wrap left. Giving up on the chips, Draco took a deep breath and shoved the extra soggy end of the wrap in his mouth. He pressed a napkin to his lips in an effort to contain the mess, but the sauce still dripped down his chin before he could swallow it all.

"I don't know if I can finish all these chips," Draco said, pushing the basket towards Harry, who nodded and immediately helped himself. In a few minutes, the chips were gone, the trays had been returned to the counter, and the two of them were standing back on the street again. Harry turned to the left and started walking confidently, and Draco watched him go, struggling to contain his laughter. It took about ten steps for Harry not to notice that Draco wasn't beside him.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, giving Draco a confused look.

"You're going the wrong way!" he laughed. Harry rolled his eyes and made his way back to where Draco was standing.

"I could have sworn that was the right way. I know I've seen that stationery store before," Harry pouted, pointing at a simple storefront that was now closed for the night.

"It's right down the street from your favourite kebab shop," Draco pointed out. "Of course you've seen it before.

"There's something else about it," Harry insisted. "I've come here recently, but it's been ages since I've had kebabs."

Draco glanced around for a street sign and suddenly understood.

"I usually, uh, work, um, a few streets down from here," he mumbled. "You were probably here when you got lost last weekend."

Comprehension suddenly dawned on Harry's face, followed by a slight blush. "Yeah, that makes sense."

There was an awkward pause, before Harry asked, "Do you live in this area then?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm on Knockturn Alley. It's a lot cheaper than this neighbourhood."

Harry nodded, glancing around.

"So which way do we go?" he asked. Draco pointed them in the right direction and they set out, walking in silence. They had just reached the back edge of Diagon Alley when Harry spoke again.

"Knockturn is just there, right?" Draco nodded in reply.

"You haven't, um, been home all week, have you?" Harry asked curiously.

"No, I haven't."

"Didn't you need to grab anything? Do you want to stop there now?"

"I... not particularly. I don't really have anything worth needing." He shrugged. Harry glanced back at the entrance to the alleyway but didn't say anything, and Draco suddenly understood. Harry was curious to see his place. He tried to weigh the pros and cons of inviting Harry over. Merlin, wasn't that a thought? He barely even had enough of an apartment to invite people over to. Not only was it tiny, it was unfurnished and disgusting, and he had no refreshments or anything to serve. On top of which he had a hard and fast rule of never bringing clients to his own place.

But Harry wasn't really a regular client. Draco had accepted by now that nothing about working with Harry was going to be normal. Plus, if Harry knew where Draco lived, he'd be able to find him if he ever wanted to hire him again. Merlin, Draco wanted Harry to hire him again. Making up his mind, he turned toward Knockturn.

"Actually, if you don't mind detouring that way, it might be a good idea to check for my scarf. I don't know if I forgot it at home or if I lost it." Draco knew for a fact that his scarf was sitting neatly folded with the rest of his small collection of clothes in the corner of his room. He never lost anything because he sure as hell couldn't afford to replace it. As with most things he owned, he had nicked the blue woollen scarf from a previous client. 

The scarf, along with the mismatched mittens that someone had once left on a park bench, had proven invaluable when winter had hit. Winter was easily the worst time of year for Draco. He usually managed to scavenge some kind of fabric to wrap around his feet but leaving the house at all was still a horrible experience (not that being inside it was much better). He'd learnt to be ultra-efficient in his outdoor excursions while it was snowing, buying the few items he ever actually paid for in bulk and picking them up while he was already out for work. 

Draco was startled out of his thoughts by the creak of the back door to the building he lived in. He had been lost in his thoughts all the way down the alley, but now, as they ascended the rickety staircase, he was on full alert again. His neighbours definitely weren’t the nicest people, and Draco was always careful to avoid them whenever possible.

“What’s that smell?” Harry asked as they reached the top of the staircase.

“Most of my neighbours smoke gillyweed.” Draco shrugged. He usually didn’t notice the smell, but after a week of staying in a hotel that smelled of opulence and wealth, it was hard to ignore. He glanced around, making sure they were alone before he reached up to the nook above his door and pulled out the key. He had a spare hidden under the fifth cobblestone to the left of the main door just in case, but he didn’t like for people to know where this one was either. There was nothing in his place to steal, but someone could lie in wait for him and without a wand, that could be a terrifyingly dangerous situation.

“It’s not much, but come on in,” he sighed, pushing the door open. In comparison to the guest room at the Humdinger, his room felt oppressively small and dark. Remembering his excuse for coming here, he made his way over to his small stack of clothes and flipped through them. It was so dark he couldn’t identify if what he was holding was his scarf or the joggers he wore to bed every night.

“Lumos” came Harry’s voice, and suddenly the room was flooded with bright light. It looked even worse under the scrutiny of the powerful charm, though at least Draco was able to identify that he was indeed holding his joggers. He glanced at the rest of the small pile, and when he couldn’t identify his scarf, his heart skipped a beat. Had he actually lost the damn thing somehow?

“Is this where you sleep?” Harry asked as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Draco turned to find him staring at the two blankets laid out on the floor, next to his folded scarf. So that was where he had put it — he’d forgotten it was being used as a makeshift pillow.

“Yeah,” Draco sighed, making his way over and picking up the scarf. “At least I know this guy is safe. Shall we head back?”

“Can I see the rest of it?” Harry asked quietly. It took Draco a moment to process what he meant and when he did, he burst out laughing.

“There is no  _ rest of it _ . This is it. This is my life.”

As he was saying it, it struck Draco just how pitiful that sounded. He glanced over at the rickety table and chair that had been left behind by the previous occupant. He sometimes slept on the table when the floor got too cold, but it was so wobbly that that wasn’t an option for every day. Shame, seeing as wood absorbed less cold than concrete.

It suddenly struck him that his regular thoughts these days were all about survival. How to stay warm, how to stay fed, how to keep his work a secret, how much Potter might pay him — they were all thoughts that would never have crossed his mind before the war. There was a time when Harry’s life was one he was supposed to be living, not a care in the world aside from what delicacy to have for dinner that evening, or which formal robes he felt like wearing to the next big social event. He was suddenly feeling very bitter at the fact that the richest man in the nation was standing in his flat. It was as if the universe was mocking him by juxtaposing the life he should have had with the one he did.

“Can we leave now?” he asked, fully aware that his tone had become quite harsh. “Or would you like another minute to gawk at what a poor man’s life looks like? Must be such an exotic experience for you, to witness poverty for the first time.”

He turned and wrenched the door open, giving Harry a pointed look. With a quick nod, Harry stepped out into the hallway. He gave Draco a moment to lock the door before holding out his arm.

“Trust me when I say I’m no stranger to poverty,” Harry said softly. “Can we Apparate back?”

Draco gave him a sceptical look but took his arm anyway. A moment later they had materialized directly into Harry’s suite. Without even realising it, they settled into their usual spots on the couches, though Draco’s mind was abuzz again. What had Potter meant about being no stranger to poverty? He knew for a fact that the Potters had left Harry an impressive inheritance. It had been an open secret how wealthy the family was, despite the fact that they had rebuffed most pureblood traditions. But it was true that even Granger had said yesterday that Harry had grown up with almost nothing. Draco couldn’t help wondering how.

Potter — no, Harry — was staring at him, and Draco suddenly regretted having even considered showing him where he lived. If nothing else, it had been a sobering reminder that he couldn’t stay in this warm and safe suite forever. He’d be leaving in a couple of days, and then it would be back to getting on his knees in the dead of the night for a pitiful number of Galleons.

“If you don’t need me for anything else, I think I’ll head to bed,” Draco said, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in the silence. 

“I know what it’s like,” Harry said softly, still staring. “Maybe not as an adult, but I understand being so hungry you’d eat your own shirt. Wearing clothes that you hate, that barely fit and that sure as hell don’t keep you warm enough. Sleeping in spaces no one should ever have to sleep in.”

Draco sighed, sitting back against the couch. Despite himself, he was curious to hear more.

“I’ve never played with toys. That was why I had such a hard time finding something for the kids; I have literally no experience to draw from. I didn’t know until I was an adult that not all glasses were the same and that I had to have them made according to my eyesight. I knew how to scrub a toilet and mop the floor before I knew how to read.”

Draco couldn’t help frowning at the things Harry was saying. He couldn’t help blurting out the question that was burning holes in his brain.

“Were you really that poor? Did you not know about your parents’ money?”

Harry shook his head, finally looking away from Draco.

“I didn’t even know about magic until I got my Hogwarts letter,” he said. Draco was about to point out that that was nothing new for a child who grew up in a Muggle house, until Harry added, “My aunt and uncle knew I was a wizard since the day I was born, though.”

That didn’t sound right.

“They weren’t poor. In fact, they did pretty well. But they didn’t like me. They didn’t like magic or anything out of the ordinary. I was a waste of space, and if Dumbledore hadn’t threatened them I’m quite sure I would have ended up in an orphanage. Might have been better, in all honesty.” 

He looked back up at Draco, who realised belatedly that his mouth was hanging open. He shut it so quickly that he heard his teeth click against each other.

“I’m not telling you all this because I’m looking for pity,” Harry said. “I’m telling you all this because I can say from experience that there’s nothing shameful about struggling. You just have to keep your head up and push on. Things will get better one day.”

Draco snorted at Harry’s optimism. “Are you sure about that?”

Harry nodded, before standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

“Yes. If only because they have to. Good night.”

Before Draco could fully process what Harry had said, his host had slipped into his bedroom and closed the door. Exhausted from the emotional day, he made his way into the guest room, getting ready for bed quickly before slipping under the covers.

As he stared at the moonlight dancing on the ceiling, Draco thought about everything Harry had just told him. It sounded like Harry’s childhood had been awful. But he was right — he’d made it out of that situation, if only because the right opportunity had shown up, in the form of his Hogwarts letter. Draco would just have to wait for his opportunity.

Draco rolled over with a sigh as he realised that  _ this _ was his opportunity. At the end of the week, he needed to make sure that Harry paid him and paid him well. He’d have to be careful with the money and not let it go to his head. His first order of business should probably be to purchase a wand. Now that he knew where Pansy was, he could probably get her to buy it for him, so that Ollivander’s niece didn’t laugh in his face and throw him out of the shop. He’d also have to buy himself more practical shoes. He was sure Harry wouldn’t mind him taking the clothes that had been bought this week, but dress shoes were not the best options for a common whore on Balsam Lane. If he was taking the clothes, maybe he could find a second-hand store willing to buy them from him. He could make a tidy sum on them and use the money to buy himself a thicker robe or two, and maybe a coat or a cloak for the colder months.

Draco lay awake for at least another hour planning what changes he would make to his life once he had a bit more money. It didn’t escape his notice, as he finally started to drift off, that perhaps Potter had been right in saying that things would get better. His last thought before he fell asleep was that the nicest change was having Potter’s optimism rub off on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie Harry and Draco went to see is The Devil Wears Prada (David Frankel, 2006).


	9. The Arrest of Michael Corner

When Draco emerged from his room the next morning, it was to find Harry on his way out.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Harry said, noticing his presence. “I have a meeting this morning, and then I’m going to meet Ron to deal with some of the, um, big changes at work.”

Draco nodded as he remembered Harry’s confession from the previous night about not wanting to work with Corner anymore.

“I should be back at about 12:30. I was wondering if you’d join me for a celebratory lunch at that point?”

“Sounds lovely. Good luck with your meeting.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” With that odd comment, Harry stepped into the floo and vanished.

Draco spared a moment to wonder what this elusive meeting could be about, but he soon put it out of his mind. He went on with his day, having breakfast and then settling down in the living room with a book. 

A few hours later he glanced up and found that it was 12:25. Harry would be back any minute. He kept the book on his lap so that Harry didn’t walk in to find him day-dreaming, but he couldn’t help wondering once again what kind of a meeting Harry would be nervous for. Could it possibly have something to do with— 

Draco was startled out of his thoughts by a banging on the door. He regarded the door wearily; Harry would have just come in, and without a wand, Draco would be defenceless against an intruder, especially one who was knocking so aggressively. After a few more knocks, a voice rang out.

“Harry, open the bloody door or I swear to Merlin I will blast it off its hinges. How  _ dare you _ — ”

Draco relaxed a little as he realised it was Corner. He definitely sounded angry, but Draco could simply tell him that Harry wasn’t home yet and send him away. Even if he insisted on staying and waiting, Harry would be back in a few moments to deal with the situation.

“Harry’s not home,” Draco said as he opened the door. It was a good thing he was standing slightly to the side because Corner suddenly barged through looking around wildly and still yelling.

“Where is he?” he demanded, whirling to face Draco, who shrugged.

“He said he was going to a meeting and he’d be back around 12:30.”

Corner checked his watch before stomping over to the armchair near the fire and plopping himself down without being invited. Draco had barely closed the door when Corner jumped up again.

“I can’t believe that stupid fucking idiot!” he growled, glaring as if whatever he was angry about was somehow Draco’s fault. Draco decided, rather wisely in his opinion, to stay away from Corner. He inched around the room to the far end of the couch and perched on the armrest as Corner continued to seethe.

“Did you put him up to changing the Robertson contract?” Corner suddenly demanded. Draco shook his head, silently putting his hands up as if in surrender.

“Fucking bleeding heart. I’m sure Robertson told him some kind of sob story to try and drain us of more money. I  _ told him _ not to offer anything more. He’s been letting clients trample all over him for ages, and I just have to sit there and let him piss away our hard work because  _ he’s  _ the famous one, and  _ he’s _ the rich one. I’m so sick and tired of being in the fucking Chosen One’s shadow when I’m clearly the smarter one.”

Corner had been twisting a cushion between his hands, and Draco was alarmed to see that it was starting to tear at the seam. He was about to say something when Corner turned back to him.

“And you! That was the biggest slap in the face of them all. Of course, the childish fucker had to go hire a whore for the week, and an ex-Death Eater at that.” Corner spat at Draco’s feet and it took all of Draco’s self-control not to rearrange his face for him.

“I can’t believe his reckless ideas. The gall of him! And you’re not much better. Hired once by Harry Potter and suddenly you think you’re too good for everyone else, eh? How dare you say no to me, you stupid fucking whore. I bet Harry doesn’t even use you properly, does he? Tell me, Malfoy, does he fuck you soundly into the mattress every night?”

Draco’s jaw dropped at Michael’s crude comments. He hadn’t made much of a fuss the day before, probably because they had been in public, but clearly, the man’s ego was still bruised from being turned down by a prostitute. He was still trying to figure out what to say when Michael started crowding into his space. He tried to slide off the armrest and away from Corner, but it was no use.

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?” Corner growled. “You think you can just say no to me? I’m going to show you how a  _ real man _ fucks a whore.”

Draco’s heart was pounding as he tried to figure out how to get out of this mess. Corner had trapped him on the sofa, both his arms placed firmly on either side of Draco’s head. 

“Get away from me,” he demanded, pushing against Corner’s chest. It was futile; Corner was clearly much strong than he looked. He grabbed Draco’s wrists in one hand and pushed him back against the sofa, before climbing on top of him and straddling his hips. Draco tried kicking him, but he couldn’t pull his legs that far up.

“Get off of me!” Draco screamed, twisting around and trying to free himself. He could feel his eyes tearing up as Michael moved his free hand up to Draco’s neck.

“Stop fighting me. I know you want it,” Michael sneered, grinning evilly down at Draco. His hand slipped down Draco’s chest, slipping between his legs and squeezing his crotch. Draco tried closing his legs, but Corner was too fast. Unsure what else to do, Draco kept trying to buck him off, screaming all the while.

“LET ME GO!” he cried out, trying desperately to jerk his arms free. Corner was now mouthing at his jaw, and Draco turned his head away, trying to get away from the monster on top of him.

“Stop, please, stop!” he cried, his tears falling freely now. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to have to look at the smug man hovering above him, when a loud bang sounded right above him. A moment later, the weight of Corner on top of him disappeared. He opened his eyes to find a livid Harry with his wand drawn, glaring at something behind the sofa.

“Draco, go tell John to summon the Aurors,” Harry growled. Realising he was in Harry’s line of fire, he scrambled off the sofa and ran into the hall, jamming the button to summon the elevator with all his energy. It opened a moment later to reveal a surprised looking John.

“Mr. Malf— ”

“Get the Aurors, please! Now!” Draco cried, cutting him off. John’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed the red emergency button inside the elevator. A moment later two Aurors popped up beside Draco.

“Harry said… to call… needs help…” Draco babbled. His head was spinning, and he sank to the floor, unable to stand up anymore. He glanced at the open door and was alarmed to see bright flashes in the living room that told him that Harry and Corner were duelling. The Aurors ran into the room, and with a large bang, the flashes stopped. Draco sat where he was, breathing heavily, eyes glued to the door. A moment later, the two Aurors pushed their way out into the hall with Corner bound between them. He was still struggling against his bindings, but he shot a murderous glare at Draco as they shoved him into the elevator.

Draco could only stare as the door closed behind them and was still staring at the steel doors when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He scrambled back, still feeling on edge, before looking up to find Harry kneeling next to him.

“Draco, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Do you need to go to St. Mungo’s?”

Draco shook his head, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his mind, but it really wasn’t working. He felt tears spilling from his eyes again. 

“Harry, what happened?” came a sharp voice from beside them. Draco hadn’t heard the elevator opening again, but when he looked up, he found the youngest Weasley standing next to them. 

“Why did Davis and Clarke arrest Michael? I hadn’t released the warrant yet.”

“He attacked Draco,” Harry said, still staring at Draco. “I came home and found him forcing him down onto the couch, so I blasted him off and we started duelling. Draco told John to call them. They helped me overpower him.”

Weasley gave a heavy sigh before lowering herself to the ground next to Draco.

“How are you doing, Malfoy? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Draco shook his head, wondering how many more times he’d be asked that.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m going to need to know what happened before Harry got there,” Weasley continued. “Pensieve memories if you have them, otherwise just a statement will do.”

“Why do you need that?” Draco asked quietly. 

“If we’re going to convict him, we need to be able to tell the Wizengamot what happened,” she said gently. Draco frowned.

“And what exactly are we going to tell them? That a celebrity business man tried to force himself on an ex-Death Eater turned prostitute? All you’ll get is them laughing and saying that I deserved it, that I probably wanted it. When they ask why I didn’t fight him off, and I respond that it’s because I don’t have a wand, it’ll open up a bullseye on my back to a whole slew of people who still want their revenge from the war.” 

He laughed bitterly at the expression on her face. 

“You’re a prostitute?” she asked, surprised. She looked at Harry, who blushed and looked down at his lap. Of course Harry was embarrassed. If they tried to put Corner on trial for attacking Draco, it would be revealed to the public that the great Harry Potter hired sex workers. Merlin, this was a mess.

“What else would I be? It’s not like anyone will ever let me do anything else.” He stood up and was relieved to find that his legs held steady. “I need some air, to clear my head. I’ll be back later.”

“Want me to come with you?” Harry offered, standing up immediately. Draco stared at him, though he had no energy left to put any kind of expression on his face.

“No.”

“Malfoy, someone should go with you. I can have an Auror— ”

“No. You know what I do to survive. Surely you must know this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with something like this. I can take care of myself.”

Without stopping to wait for their answers, Draco called the elevator and stepped into it. John was mercifully silent on the ride down. The doors had barely opened when he sped out into the lobby, not caring who was staring at him. He started walking in a random direction, not paying attention to where he went.

As he walked, Draco thought about what had just happened. How could he not? Sure, he’d had clients who’d pushed a little too far in the past, but it still always left him feeling vulnerable and a little on edge. He kept glancing over his shoulder as he walked, even though there wasn’t really anything to look out for. Corner had been arrested, and no one else was really going to pay him any mind. Over the past seven years, it had been a bit of a relief to be able to walk down the street and just be another anonymous person. But right now, he just felt very alone. He spared a moment to wonder if maybe he should have accepted Potter’s offer for some company but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Potter had his own problem with Corner and would probably have gotten Draco even more worked up. No, what he needed right now was an impartial friend.

Glancing around to find his bearings, Draco detoured down a side street and cut across a Muggle parking lot before coming onto another wizarding street. He rounded the corner and ended up right in front of Brookside formal wear but was disappointed to find that it was closed. He peered into the window, wondering if Pansy might still be working inside, but the place looked deserted. Not willing to give up, he made his way down the street towards Millicent’s salon. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw that it was still open.

The bell above the door jingled merrily as Draco stepped into the salon, drawing the attention of Millicent herself, who popped her head out from the back room.

“Draco! What a surprise! I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

Draco nodded, not quite trusting his voice at that moment.

“Pansy and I were just sitting down for a late lunch in the flat upstairs if you want to join us. Luna said she might pop by too.”

Draco nodded gratefully and followed Millicent into the back and up a thin staircase. The second floor was elegantly decorated, but Draco wasn’t focused on the interior design. As soon as he stepped into the small dining room he was swept into Pansy’s strong hug. Unable to hold back any longer, he melted into her arms, and was horrified to find himself crying again.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked gently, brushing her hand over his hair. “Draco, what happened?”

She led him to the bench under the window and continued to hold him as he kept crying for another couple of minutes. He had finally started to calm down and was just starting to sit up again when they heard the floo roar to life in the other room.

“Sorry I’m late, the hotel is crawling with Aurors. I don’t think I can stay because I’m worried about Draco, apparently something happened to him, and— ”

“Luna, he’s here.” Draco listened as Millicent interrupted Luna’s rambling, followed by two brisk sets of footsteps approaching the room. A moment later Luna and Millicent were standing in front of him and Pansy. 

“Oh Draco, are you alright? Harry didn’t say much about what happened and John wasn’t too sure, he just said you’d left in a hurry and that Corner’s been arrested.”

Draco sighed as he realised how horrible it sounded from Luna’s information. Not that it was a great situation all around, but the terrified expressions on their faces made it clear he would have to explain.

“Potter and his business partner haven’t been getting along recently. The tension has just been building, and it’s been worse because Potter hired me, and Corner found out what I do for a living. Yesterday, Corner tried to proposition me, but I turned him down. He didn’t take it well, so when he came by today, outraged that Harry had apparently done something without his permission, he decided to take it out on me.”

Millicent gasped, and he felt Pansy’s arms tighten protectively around him. He leaned into her again, closing his eyes as he said the next part. He didn’t want to see their expressions.

“He cornered me on the sofa and tried to force himself on me. If Harry hadn’t come and blasted him off when he did, he would have… I tried to fight him off. I really tried. But he was so strong. He had me pinned down under his weight, and he was saying the most horrible things, and I just…” Draco trailed off, unsure what else he could say. He felt dirtier than any client had ever left him feeling. 

"That bastard," Pansy bit out. "How dare he touch you, that fucking— "

"Pansy, dear, I don't know if that's what Draco needs right now.”

"You're right." Pansy nodded, though Draco could tell she was still furious. "What we need to do is make sure you never have to go back there. Clearly Potter can't be trusted to take care of you."

"Pansy, this isn't Harry's fault," Draco sighed. "And anyway, Corner's been arrested. There's no threat anymore."

"I still don't see why you have to go back," Millicent said, pulling a pair of chairs over to the window for herself and Luna. "You said this guy was Potter's partner, right? What if the others in Potter's circle turn out to be just as horrible? It's not safe."

"I... I don't think he'll pay me if I just disappear," Draco sighed.

"So fuck his money," Pansy snarled.

"And what, go back to selling blowjobs for three Galleons apiece? To being broke and cold and hungry every moment of the day? Do you really think this is the first time someone's tried to take advantage of me? That's what happens in my line of work. People see me as a second class citizen and think they can do whatever they want. I can go back to Potter and get paid, hopefully more than normal, for being in a potentially unsafe situation there, or I can go back to my own life and be paid almost nothing for my also unsafe job."

"He better be paying you well," Millicent snarled.

"You don't actually know how much he's going to give you, do you?" Luna asked gently. Draco bit his lip as he nodded, unsure how she'd figured that one out.

"Draco, this is ridiculous," Pansy cried. "What if he rips you off?"

"I don't think he will." Draco shrugged. "I haven't seen him be stingy about a single thing all week. Even if he doesn't pay that much, I'm sure he'll let me keep the clothes. I can probably resell them and make a good savings off that."

"You're going to sell my clothes?" Pansy demanded.

"Pansy, leave it," Luna sighed. "Draco doesn't live the type of lifestyle where he has any use for 100 Galleon hand-woven silk robes. You were paid, more than enough I might add, for your work. Don't think I don't know that you grossly overcharged Harry for Draco's clothes this week."

"You... what?" Draco's eyes widened in surprise at his ruthless friend. Despite the fact that Harry and Luna were close friends, there was clearly no love lost between him and Pansy. She let go of Draco and sat up with a huff.

"There's a second hand program a few blocks over," she relented. "I usually give them orders that I've made wrong, and I encourage clients to donate their lightly worn formal wear as well, which they resell to young witches and wizards at a second hand price, usually for their Hogwarts graduating ball, since a lot of students can't quite afford dress robes. They do buy robes off people who are struggling, though they can probably also trade you for regular day wear."

"That sounds perfect. You know I love your work, right? Even if I can't afford to keep wearing it?"

Pansy smiled at that, never one to turn down a compliment. Just then, a timer went off in another room, causing Millicent to jump out of her seat.

"That's the oven. I guess lunch is ready. Take a seat, I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later they were all enjoying a piping hot lasagne, the girls chatting about the latest gossip, and Draco listening happily, glad to have a distraction from everything that had just happened to him.

"So, what happened with your manicurist? Clara, right?" Pansy asked Millicent. "Is she still fighting with your potion's assistant?"

Millicent chuckled. "She was, but it came to a head a couple of days ago and she stormed out, enraged at Allie's insults. I am now down a manicurist." She took a bite of her food, and the table fell silent for a moment, before she apparently thought of something.

"Do you want to work with me, Draco?" she asked suddenly, an excited gleam in her eyes. "If you're tired of sex work, I can guarantee that this is a lot safer. I'm sure you'd earn more too, especially with the way some of these witches tip."

"I don't know if the gossip-hungry housewives of wizarding London will want a Death Eater doing their nails," he sighed. "Though I appreciate the offer."

"Oh, I'm not stupid enough to put you out front," she laughed. "When Clara quit, she was so furious that she decided to report Allie to the Ministry for improper potioneering. They decided to do a surprise inspection and found that she actually wasn't cleaning her tools properly. Needless to say, I wasn't going to keep her around either. The Ministry's going to do a random check again one day soon, so I need someone I can trust stirring the cauldrons. If you're up for it, the job's yours."

Draco was stunned. He stared at Millicent, unsure if this was too good to be true. Had she just offered him a job?

"I don't have a wand," he blurted.

"We'll buy you one. I'll dock it from your first paycheck, though you'll make enough to pay for it before lunch on your first day."

Draco's jaw dropped. Not only was she offering him a job, but a job that paid so well he'd be able to afford a wand after the first day.

Despite his talent and the amount of time his godfather had spent teaching him about them, he hadn't always been a fan of brewing potions. But it was a better option than anything else he had, right? Even as he thought it, he heard Harry’s voice in his head.  _ So you could still go? _

Ever since that conversation, Draco hadn’t been able to help wondering what it would have been like to go to France and study. What opportunities might have been available to him. If he’d had any idea what was going to happen to him after the trials, he might have paid the fees while he still had the money, just to guarantee his spot. 

But now, this job with Millicent was looking like a promising start to get back there. Maybe if he worked for a few years, he’d be able to save up enough to pay the tuition fees. He might even be able to pick up a second job once he had a wand or secure a loan from the goblins once they saw a steady paycheck coming into his bank account.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step up, and Draco couldn’t help smiling at the thought that for now, that was enough.

“I’ll do it.”


	10. Three Hundred

Harry stared as the elevator doors closed behind Draco. He wanted to go after him and make sure he was alright. He stood up, absently brushing his robes off, and was reaching for the button to call the elevator back when Ginny stopped him.

“Let him go, Harry. Let’s go back inside, and you can tell me what happened. I also want to take a good look around.”

Harry nodded and led the way inside. He pointed to the sofa which had been split in half during the duel and the scorch marks on the floor around it. Harry had clearly fought a lot harder than he’d needed to, but he’d just been so  _ angry _ at Michael, and it had all come rushing out.

“He really put up a fight, didn’t he?” Ginny asked, looking around at the mess. Harry rubbed his neck as he looked at her.

“Um, not as much as it looks like,” he admitted guiltily. “I may have lost my temper a little bit.”

She simply raised an eyebrow at him before pulling out a small compact camera from her pocket and starting to take pictures. Harry took a seat at the relatively undisturbed dining table and watched. She had just put the camera away when there was a knock on the door.

“Harry? Are you here? What happened?”

Recognizing Luna’s voice, he waved his wand at the door, which swung open to let her in. The concern on her face quickly changed to shock as she took in the damage to the living room.

“I’m sorry about the mess, Luna,” Harry said quickly. “Once Ginny’s done with her stuff, I’ll fix it right up. I promise.”

Luna rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not concerned about a few duelling marks on the floor. I’m more concerned about why there was a duel in the first place. I saw the Aurors leading Michael outside. Have they arrested him?”

“Yes, for assault, and I’ll be adding charges of fraud and theft later tonight.”

“Assault?”

“Harry, do you want to tell us what happened? You can explain what you saw to Luna, though I’ll ask you to add times if you can remember them, and I’ll write down what you say as your statement.”

Harry nodded and summoned glasses of water for all three of them before he started speaking.

“I was in two meetings this morning, one with a client, and then another with Ron, at his place. I left his house at 12:25 and flooed to the lobby of the hotel. I had told Draco that I would be back at 12:30, so I decided to use the extra five minutes to chat with Luna.”

It suddenly struck Harry that if he hadn’t stopped to talk to Luna, he might have been upstairs when the whole commotion had started. He might have been able to stop Michael from ever even touching Draco. As with a lot of his conversations with Luna, it had really just been a kick in the bum for him to realise the obvious.

_ “Hey Harry! What can I do for you?” Luna gestured to the chairs in front of her desk, and Harry took a seat. _

_ “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going home tomorrow night. I’ve just made a few enormous changes at work, and I’d rather avoid the media storm that will follow.” _

_ Luna nodded. “And you’d like the standard procedures to close up your suite?” _

_ Harry paused. “I was actually wondering if… well, could you extend the wards to allow Draco to keep using it? I want to tell him that he’s welcome to stay even if I’m leaving.” _

_ “How long will he be staying?” she asked. Harry shrugged. _

_ “I’m not sure. I just… I saw his apartment yesterday, and it was terrible. I don’t want him to have to go back there.” _

_ “So he’s just going to live here permanently?” she pushed. It had seemed like a great idea in his head, but talking things through with Luna always helped him realise how stupid some of his ideas sounded. _

_ “I mean, not permanently, but…” _

_ “Harry, doing something like that might actually embarrass him. And either way, it won’t help, especially if he’s going back to the same work he was doing before. I know you have a compulsive need to save people, but this isn’t the right way to save Draco.” _

_ Harry sighed. “So what? I have to just leave him to go back to that shit hole of an apartment where he’ll continue selling his body to be able to live?” _

_ “Harry, this week has already been good for him. He looks well-fed and well-rested, which judging from what he looked like on his first day here, is an incredible improvement. You bought him hundreds of Galleons worth of clothes, and he’s reconnected with some of his closest friends from school. Pansy hasn’t stopped chattering away all week about how happy she is that Draco now knows where to find her, and his promise to visit regularly. Not to mention, I’m sure whatever you’ll be paying him will go a long way in making his life a little more comfortable.” _

_ Harry’s eyes widened at that. He hadn’t once thought about paying Draco for his help this week. Which, in hindsight, was incredibly stupid. _

_ “You have discussed how much you’re paying him for this week, right?” Luna asked carefully. Harry shook his head, slouching back in his chair. _

_ “It completely slipped my mind. Now that you’ve mentioned it, it seems like an obvious mistake.” _

_ “How much were you going to pay him?” she probed. _

_ Harry shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I guess that’s a conversation that we should have at some time today.”  _

_ “Right now,” she’d insisted. Harry nodded, glancing at his watch. _

_ “Yeah, I told him I’d be back by now anyway. Thanks for kicking some sense into my head, Luna, as always.” _

“Yes, Harry was with me. For a bit. He said he was going upstairs to talk to Draco, but then not ten minutes after that John, our elevator attendant, came to tell me that the Aurors at the door had arrested Corner, and that there had been a commotion up here.”

Ginny nodded, her quill scratching away on a sheet of parchment. “I’ll need to speak with John as well, whenever he has a free moment.”

“Of course.”

“So, Harry, you left Luna’s office and came upstairs?”

“Yeah. I got out of the elevator and suddenly heard screaming from inside the suite. I drew my wand, just in case, and came inside to find Michael on top of Draco, on the couch over there.” He pointed at the mess of wood and fabric in the sitting area. “Draco was screaming and thrashing about. All I heard was him crying ‘Stop, Please stop.’ I cast _ Levicorpus _ , thinking that I had to get Michael off Draco, but my wand movement was weird and it kind of threw him off. He stood right back up and drew his wand though. Draco was in the line of fire, so I told him to go call the Aurors. Just as he made it behind me, Michael started throwing hexes, and I responded. The Aurors ran in right as the couch cracked, and they managed to hit him with an  _ Incarcerous _ while he was distracted by my  _ Impedimenta _ . He was so furious he could barely talk. All he managed to get out was ‘You fucking bastard’ before they led him out of the room.”

Harry let his head drop down to the table, exhausted from the long tale. If this was how he was feeling, he couldn’t imagine what was going through Draco’s head right now.

“Draco…” he croaked, suddenly sitting up. “He… he left, I should go find him.”

“Harry, sit down,” Ginny said sternly. “You don’t even know where he went, and you’re definitely not in the best shape to calm him down right now if he’s upset.”

“I’ll go see if Pansy’s heard from him,” Luna offered. “Let the elves know when you’re done gathering whatever evidence you need, and they’ll come clean up.”

“Thank you, Luna,” Harry sighed, letting his head drop back down to the table. He listened to the sound of her footsteps retreating and the door closing behind her before Ginny spoke again.

“Harry… we can’t know for sure without talking to Malfoy, but from the way you both described it, it sounded like Michael was trying to…” she hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing, “It sounds like he was trying to rape Malfoy.”

Harry scrunched his eyes shut as another wave of emotions crashed through his chest.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” he bit out, trying not to let tears form in his eyes. 

“We’ll need evidence though. Pensieve memories from Malfoy would be best, though I know that can be painful for him to provide.”

“I don’t know about all that. But it’s not the first time Michael tried that with someone.”

“He’s done that to other people?” Ginny asked, outraged. “Harry, who was it? If they… oh.”

He kept his eyes closed, but in his mind he could imagine the look of shock on her face as she realised who he was talking about. 

“It wasn’t exactly the same,” he sighed. “We were staying in a hotel for a meeting up north, and after a few drinks he just wasn’t taking no for an answer, and his hands just kept going wherever they wanted. That’s why I came out to him, actually. Before I knew it, he’d already taken off his shirt and undone my trousers, and he reached his hand… well, the thing is, I was too awkward at that point to admit that he was doing something wrong, so I pushed him off and said  _ sorry, I just don’t do sex. _ I think me trying to explain asexuality to his drunk arse confused him enough that it discouraged him from trying anything more that night, but now that I think about it, that really should have been the first of many red flags.”

They were silent for a minute before something else occurred to Harry.

“I should have spoken up back then,” he sighed, finally opening his eyes, though he couldn’t bring himself to look up at Ginny. “I should have reported his behaviour right off the bat. Then he wouldn’t have done this to Draco. The poor man was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was  _ me _ that Michael was mad at, and if I hadn’t stopped to talk to Luna, he wouldn’t have taken it out on Draco…”

“Harry, stop,” Ginny said forcefully. “ _ None of this _ is your fault. It is entirely understandable that you didn’t try to report Michael the first time, and it is also perfectly reasonable that you stopped to talk to Luna today. You had no way of knowing this would happen, and you are not responsible for it.”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” he mumbled. “Merlin, how did this become such a mess?”

“It’s because Michael is an arse, Harry. He takes advantage of innocent people, whether it’s fraud or rape or talking down to others to make him feel better about his own pathetic life. Your decision to cut him loose and turn him in was the best choice for everyone.”

Harry knew she was right, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like Hippogriff shit. 

“I guess I should call Ron if this is going to become a giant legal mess,” he sighed.

“Well, that depends on whether or not Malfoy wants to give me a statement or if he’s willing to testify in court. Michael’s going to jail either way, we have more than enough to convict him of fraud. The question now, is will he also be charged with sexual assault, and if so will it be one count or two?” She gave him a meaningful look but seemed to change the subject.

“Do you think Malfoy will come back tonight?” she asked. “If he decides he wants nothing to do with this case because of the publicity — and you can bet your arse it’s going to be  _ highly _ publicized — that’s fine, but I need to know so that I don’t go mentioning him to the wrong people.”

“I hope he does. Merlin, I hope he’s okay.”

“Harry… I have to ask, did you actually hire him? Or is your story about running into each other and somehow becoming friends real?”

“I… I am paying him to be here for the week. But I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that it feels like we’re becoming friends too.”

“You’re developing feelings for him,” she said bluntly. “Aren’t you?”

Harry’s eyes widened at her statement. Was he really? That couldn’t be good. He had no idea if he’d ever see Draco again after this week. It was a little painful to think that he might want more. A  _ relationship. _

“Merlin, I hope not. This is complicated enough.”

"You can say that again," came Ron's voice from the doorway. "Also, haven't you learned to close your door by now to keep random people from wandering in?"

Ron closed the door behind him and joined them at the table with a thick stack of folders in his arms.

"I was hoping you would be here," he said to his sister, passing a couple of folders to her. She opened the top one and nodded at the first page before putting them to the side.

“So, I hear through the grapevine that Michael’s been arrested for something else now?”

Ginny nodded, glancing at Harry. “Sexual assault,” she said simply.

Ron’s eyes widened as he looked between his sister and his best friend. 

“What? Who did he assault?” he peered at Harry, who refused to meet Ron’s eye.

“Malfoy,” Ginny said, sparing Harry from her brother’s scrutiny. “Turns out Michael’s one of those assholes who thinks that sex workers have to have sex with anyone who wants it.”

“Sex work — Malfoy’s a sex worker? Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have bet against Hermione. Wait, where is he now?”

“He left,” Harry said, still glaring at the table. “We have no idea if he’ll come back.”

“But he’s going to testify against Corner?” Harry shrugged, but clearly that wasn’t enough for Ron.

“Harry, if he testifies, the whole world will know that you hired a sex worker. You do know that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter, Ron. It’s not illegal. He might still not testify because  _ he _ doesn’t want the world to know what he does for a living.”

“So Corner can’t actually be convicted without hurting both of your reputations,” Ron pointed out. 

“Well actually…” Ginny hesitated, but Harry knew what she wanted to say.

“He can,” he sighed. “Draco wasn’t the only person that Michael’s done this to. I can testify without ever mentioning Draco at all, since it happened years ago.”

Now that Ron had pointed out how hard it would be to convict Michael of taking advantage of Draco, it seemed obvious that that would never happen. But Harry was furious, and he couldn’t let his ex-partner go unpunished.

“Harry… are you sure?” Ginny asked softly. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not comfortable with it. The Aurors witnessed him duelling you in your apartment. There’s no way the Wizengamot won’t convict him once they see Davis and Clarke’s memories.”

“But then won’t Corner tell the world about Draco just to spite you?” Ron asked with a frown.

Harry let his head drop to the table. Merlin, this was getting more and more complicated.

“I think that’s a risk you face no matter what, Harry. He’s a horribly petty person.”

“I hate him,” he mumbled into the table. He could  _ hear _ Ginny and Ron rolling their eyes at him and exchanging  _ I told you so  _ looks. He cringed as he realised that he was going to be getting a lot of that over the next week from clients and investors who’d never liked Michael in the first place. He had an inkling that the Finkleys might even throw a party to celebrate his leaving. Speaking of which…

“Do you have the papers?” he asked Ron. A moment later a giant stack of folders was pushed in front of him, and with a second wave of Ron’s wand, a quill and a fresh pot of ink popped up at his elbow.

“Yes, you have to sign all of that,” Ron said lightly as Harry’s eyes widened. “Be grateful you didn’t have to  _ write it.” _

Harry conceded that. He knew full well that Ron saved him hours of work every single day, and as much as he might whine about legal work, he was incredibly grateful to have him. He opened the first folder full of complicated writing, and tried to wrap his head around the fact that  _ this _ was what Draco wanted to do too.

Ron had just finished explaining the first document, and he was about to sign, when an owl tapped at the window. Ginny got up to let it in, handing the letter to Harry before searching through his kitchen for a treat for the owl.

“It’s from Luna,” Harry announced as he read through it quickly. “Draco’s coming back, but it’ll be a little later tonight.”

“Here you go, buddy,” Ginny said, setting the owl on the balcony with a plate of digestives. “Well then, in that case there’s really no point in me hanging around here much longer, unless you need me to stay?”

Harry shook his head. She had a lot to do now that Michael had been arrested and would clearly be wasting her time sitting around and watching Ron explain legalese to Harry. 

“Okay, well let me know when Malfoy gets back. I can come by and see if he’s willing to give me a statement or even pensieve memories.”

Without waiting for a reply, she stepped into the floo and vanished.

“Remember there was a time when  _ we _ wanted to be Aurors?” Ron scoffed. Harry couldn’t help being amused at the thought; they really had been naive in school.

The afternoon wore on as they continued to discuss the documents that would free Harry from his working relationship with Michael. Harry was surprised to see the extent of their assets and investments. He hadn’t realised exactly how far they’d come from the two lost Hogwarts graduates presenting business plans to potential investors in coffee shops. At one point, a small team of elves popped in to clean up the mess in the hall, accompanied by Pippy who brought them tea and pastries. She had offered lunch, but Ron had already eaten and Harry really wasn’t in the mood. Before they knew it, the hall looked brand new, the tea had gone cold, all that remained of the pastries were a few crumbs, and they were signing the last document.

“Well, I’ll take these and head over to Gringotts,” Ron announced. “I hope there isn’t much of a line. I have to go pick Rosie up from mum’s.”

“I can get Rosie for you?” Harry offered. Ron scoffed at him. 

“Mate, you can barely keep your head up. Stay here and wait for Malfoy. I’ll worry about Rosie. I’m sure mum won’t mind watching her for an extra half hour or so.”

He turned the door handle to let himself out and almost walked right into Draco and Luna.

“Malfoy,” he said, giving the man a curt nod and smiling at Luna before stepping into the elevator they had just vacated. Harry couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as Draco stepped into the hall. Merlin, Ginny was right — he was developing feelings for Draco. 

He was fucked now.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


“Will you two be okay?” Luna asked, looking between them. Draco nodded though he couldn’t bring himself to look at Harry. Harry must have nodded as well, because Luna gave him a gentle pat on the back and left, throwing a promise of sending up dinner over her shoulder and closing the door behind her as she went.

They were silent for a moment. 

“Sorry I just disappeared this afternoon,” he said, finally glancing up at Harry.

“Please don’t apologise,” Harry said quickly. “Nothing that happened today was your fault. If you needed to go somewhere else to feel safe and calm down, then I have no problem with that.”

Draco nodded, unsure what else to say.

“Before I forget,” Harry continued, “Ginny said she’d come back if you want to give her a statement or pensieve memories. But we also understand completely if you’d rather not be involved, since it would become quite a public affair. Michael’s going to jail anyway.”

Draco couldn’t help noting the savage tone with which Harry pronounced Michael’s name. It made him feel just a tiny bit better to know for sure that Harry was on his side.

“If I get involved, everyone will know you hired a prostitute,” Draco pointed out. He took a chance and sat down at the table from Potter, who looked unbothered by Draco’s point.

“It makes no difference to me.” Harry shrugged. “If you want to see him convicted for what he did to you, you’re more than welcome to stand up and tell the entire Wizengamot that I’m paying you to be here. But if you’d rather remain anonymous, that’s entirely understandable as well, and I promise no one will bother you about it ever again.”

“I… I’m not sure,” Draco admitted. He definitely wanted Corner to suffer, but at the same time this case could cause him a lot of headache.

“You don’t have to decide right away. Maybe sleep on it, and see how you feel tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Draco wasn’t sure how to bring up the fact that tomorrow was the last day on Harry’s schedule, or the topic of how much he’d be paid. He’d never seemed to have any problems asking clients to cough up, but for some reason he was feeling oddly shy around Harry. Luckily for him, the same topic seemed to be on Harry’s mind.

“Speaking of tomorrow, I know there’s an early dinner on the schedule I gave you, but please don’t feel like you have to come if you don’t feel up to it, especially after everything that happened today. I’m going to head straight to Godric’s Hollow after dinner, but I’ve told Luna to let you stay for as long as you need.”

Draco’s jaw dropped at that. It was one thing to be invited to stay while Harry was here, but to be offered the place after he went back to Godric’s Hollow?

He was still considering the offer when the food arrived. Neither of them really felt like eating, though they made a valiant effort to at least make a dent in the grilled chicken. After a fairly silent meal, Harry excused himself from the table, claiming he was tired and wanted to go to bed. Glad that he’d be able to have some quiet time for himself, Draco didn’t comment as he watched him go.

“Oh yeah, I meant to ask. We never discussed how much I owe you for this week.”

Draco’s eyes widened as he realised the thought had completely slipped his mind. His palms started sweating as he remembered the coaching the girls had given him all afternoon, encouraging him to ask Harry for more rather than less. His initial thought had been 200 Galleons, since it was a little more than what he would make in a good week. Surely Harry could afford that. But the girls hadn’t been satisfied, insisting that he settle for no less than 400. Draco couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about over inflating his prices though, so without giving himself more time to worry about it, he blurted “three hundred!” He sighed in relief as Harry simply nodded.

“Do you have an account with Gringotts that I can just transfer it to, or would you rather have the physical coins?”

Draco considered him for a moment. He was sure the Malfoy accounts had been shut down once they’d been emptied, but if he was going to be working with Millicent and earning a steady paycheck now, perhaps a small personal account would be a good idea.

“I’ll go to the bank in the morning and open one,” he decided aloud. Harry nodded and bade him goodnight before disappearing into his room. Draco sat still in the silence for a moment. He considered curling up on the sofa with a book for a bit, but remembering what had happened there just that morning, he decided maybe bed was a better idea.

As he climbed under the soft covers, he let his mind wander, thinking of all the things he could do with 300 Galleons. Of course, his first order of business would be finding a wand. Then perhaps he could look into buying a few things for his apartment, such as a real bed or at least some kind of mat to keep him off the cold stone floor while he slept. It wouldn’t be as nice as the bed he was currently lying in, he thought morosely, but it would be a world of improvement. It wasn’t a very sudden change, but his life was definitely starting to look up.

With that bittersweet thought, Draco drifted off to sleep.


	11. Goodbye

Draco didn't want to leave his bed the next morning, knowing it would be the last time he slept in it. He knew Harry had said he could stay as long as he wanted, but he didn't want to be here without him. Draco knew that as soon as he spent a night here without his host, he'd never want to go back to his own place.

As a consolation for the fact that this was his last day in the beautiful apartment, Draco let himself have a bit of a lie in, which led to him falling right back to sleep. When he woke up again, he was shocked to find that it was almost 10:30. He rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom to get dressed, making it out to the hall in record time. There was an apology ready on his lips for Harry, but the man was nowhere to be found.

"Pippy?" The elf popped up in front of him, eyes wide.

"Sir is awake! Master is telling Pippy to give sir a letter."

Draco frowned at the envelope she offered him.

"Has he gone out?"

Pippy shook her head.

"Master is gone home. Is saying that dinner tonight is being cancelled so master is leaving. Is sir wanting breakfast?"

Draco nodded, barely paying attention as she disappeared. He sat down at the table, contemplating the envelope. It was rather thick, which told him there must be multiple sheets of parchment in it. He ripped it open as a large stack of pancakes, topped with strawberries and clotted cream, appeared in front of him.

Ignoring the food for the time being, he started to read.

_Draco,_

_First of all, I'm sorry to leave so suddenly. The dinner tonight has been cancelled and being in London is getting a bit overwhelming for me, especially with everything that's happened over the past few days. I don't know if you've read the paper yet today, but what was written is causing mayhem, and I don't want to be around to witness it._

_As I said last night, you're more than welcome to stay for as long as you need. Luna and the rest of the staff are aware, and they're more than happy to have you._

_I wanted to thank you for all your help this week. It wasn't just the etiquette and fashion tips (though those were a huge help too). It was honestly a pleasure getting to know you this week, and it meant the world to me that you were willing to sit and listen to my rambling and stupid decisions. It was great to finally have someone who told me what I needed to hear, rather than what I wanted. You're a clever and honest man, and I'm sure one day you're going to make an incredible lawyer._

_I really do hope you get to follow your dreams one day. If you're okay with it, I'd love to keep in touch and remain friends. Of course, I won't pester you if you'd rather never hear from me again, but if you're up for it, send me an owl whenever you can._

_Another order of business is regarding Michael's arrest. It's entirely up to you if you would like to testify against him. For now, we're all just assuming that you won't, but if you ever change your mind (it can be five days from now or five years) just let Ginny know, and she'll get everything sorted. Post addressed to the Deputy Head Auror will reach her._

_Finally, you'll find enclosed with this letter a Gringotts transfer form. Whenever you get your account set up you'll just have to sign this form and submit it to the goblins, and they'll transfer the money over to you. Of course the clothes are all yours to do with as you please._

_I think that's pretty much it. I hope you choose to stay in touch. You're always welcome to visit, both in London and Godric's Hollow. Teddy comes to visit often too. I know Andy would like for him to get to know his cousin as well. Again, that's up to you though. Otherwise, I wish you luck in wherever you go in life._

_Take care, Draco._

_Yours,_

_Harry_

Draco read the letter over twice more, wondering why he felt so sad at the thought that Harry was gone. He chalked it up to the thought of being sad that this week was over. He couldn't believe how much had happened in the last seven days. He'd been wary about this at first, but despite the few rough days, he had to admit that he was in a much better place than when he'd started. Sure, he still had to go back to his horrible apartment, but now that he would be working for Millicent, it wouldn't be long before he could afford a better place. And if he was going to get a wand, it would go a long way toward making the place liveable until he could leave.

The other bonus to working for Millicent would be that he no longer had to work as a prostitute. It cheered him up immensely to think that he would never have to have sex again. As he thought about it, he realised that he should probably contact his aunt, and take her up on her offer to get to know his cousin. Now that he could honestly say he worked a normal (and safe) job, he wouldn't have to lie to her about his life.

Feeling much better, Draco tucked into his breakfast, dreaming about all the improvements he was going to make to his life now that he had a bit of money and a steady income to rely on. Unable to hold off, he pulled the transfer form out of the envelope. He was sure Harry would be fair to him, but he wanted to see with his own eyes that he was owed 300 Galleons. He flipped the sheet open as he put a forkful of strawberries into his mouth and promptly started choking.

Harry hadn't given him 300 Galleons. He'd given him 300 _thousand._ He thought back to their conversation last night. Harry had asked how much he should pay him, and Draco had blurted 300 Galleons. _No,_ his mind supplied helpfully. _You said 300. To someone as wealthy as him, that means 300 thousand._

Draco's mind was reeling. Here, in his hands, was a sheet of paper, signed by Harry Potter, stating that he owed Draco 300 thousand Galleons. For a moment he had the crazy idea that he should write to Potter and tell him he'd made a mistake. There was no way he could accept so much money.

And then an idea occurred to him, and in that moment, Draco knew that he absolutely would accept so much money, and that he'd damn well put it to good use.

"Pippy!" he called, once he'd managed to clear his airway.

"Are there post owls here that I could borrow?"

She nodded. "If sir is needing to send a letter, sir can give it to Pippy or to the reception desk. Pippy will be bringing mail whenever it arrives."

Draco nodded, glancing around. "Do you know if Harry kept any spare parchment and ink here?"

She nodded again, pointing to the desk near the bookshelf.

"Thank you," he said, not paying her anymore attention as he made his way over to the desk. He was just opening the drawer when something else occurred to him.

"Is there a copy of today's paper here?" he asked, but he turned to find she had already left. At that moment he also noticed the paper sitting on the coffee table, and rolled his eyes at how dependent he'd become on an elf in the past week.

He resumed his seat at the dining table once he'd collected parchment and ink, and the paper that seemed to have upset Harry so much. Draco flipped it open, curious to see what they'd written about Corner's arrest. He was surprised to find that the article on the front page didn't mention Corner once. He flipped through quickly and found a short article on the fourth page in the business section about how he'd been arrested for fraud. It sounded like an interesting scheme, but Draco couldn't help flipping back to the front to see the article about Harry.

> *****Daily Prophet Exclusive*****
> 
> Dear readers,
> 
> I have some shocking news for you this morning about our beloved Saviour. More recently, you may recognise him as the biggest business tycoon in Europe. So many of us feel safe buying from and investing with him, thinking that we can trust the man who saved our world from the forces of darkness, against all odds. But can we?
> 
> Some unbelievable information has recently come to light about the man we all look up to. In an exclusive interview with yours truly, _The Prophet's_ senior correspondent, Rita Skeeter, Potter's business partner and right-hand man, Michael Corner, revealed that not all is as it seems in our hero's head.
> 
> "He says that he's _asexual_ ," Corner scoffed. "It's all bullshit of course. I doubt it's a real thing. It's supposed to mean that he doesn't want sex, or some similar bullshit. But what 25 year old man doesn't want sex? I think he's just saying it for more attention."
> 
> Surprised at this new concept, yours truly decided to do some research. Renowned mind healer and researcher Cletus Rook, confirmed that asexuality is something he's seen before. "It's not common," he said thoughtfully, "but we don't know much about it, or why it happens. I've had students propose research projects to look into it, see if it's some kind of neurological defect, or the result of some kind of blood curse. The weird thing is that it's been mentioned in muggle healing literature as well, though bless their souls, they do their best to be optimistic and complimentary about everything, so they've just chalked it up to an identity and a natural occurrence. They're very nit-picky about their definitions too; to them it's the fact of not being attracted to people in general, rather than just not wanting sex. Either way, they're quite limited in their understanding of the human body. I don't know how it can be considered natural for a young, healthy man to not want sex."
> 
> So does that mean that the chosen one is ill? Delbert Elderberry, 34th seat in the Wizengamot and representative of North Lancashire, thinks so. "The poor boy's been through so much. Losing his parents at a young age, then fighting you-know-who in some rather legendary battles, and finally building such a large empire of companies so quickly. I'm sure it's all gone to his head. It must be the stress, or the trauma of it all. We've seen it in the courts; victims of great tragedies like that start to believe some weird things. I definitely think he could benefit from regular visits to a mind healer."
> 
> Rook agreed with Elderberry. "It's quite possible that this is some kind of odd manifestation of PTSD, but we wouldn't be able to tell for sure until he decides to come in for a thorough examination. Personally, I feel that this kind of things should be at least a mandatory discussion with his general healer, but since he's technically not harming anyone, there's not much we can do about it. If you're reading this though, Potter, I urge you to send me an owl."
> 
> So what is the truth? Is this really a cry for attention? Or is there something more sinister behind this new information? And how will we know? While the obvious answer is to go straight to the source, Mr. Potter himself did not respond to any requests for comments, nor did his businesses PR managers. Until we know for sure what's happening inside his head, our thoughts and charms are with our ailing hero.

Draco stared at the page, unsure what he'd just read. He'd never heard of asexuality and had no idea what it actually was, but surely it wasn't as messed up as Skeeter had made it out to be (because of course it was her who'd written this). Even the picture of Harry that they'd included with the article was unflattering, showing him from a side profile looking angry and stressed. No wonder the man had fled London.

He felt the tiniest sense of relief at the realisation that the article hadn't included him at all. If Harry could bear having such slander written about him, surely Draco could bear having the world find out he had been a sex worker (the use of the past tense filled him with an incredible sense of glee). He preferred not to though. It was a secret he hoped to keep from Andromeda and Teddy, and he was sure Millicent could do without the publicity of hiring a prostitute as well. Though now that he thought about it, he wasn't going to be working for Millicent.

With a sigh, he pulled the stack of parchment towards him and started to write. He wrote his first letter and gave it to Pippy to be sent off with express Portkey post and then settled in to write the rest. Before long, he had sent letter making plans to meet the girls for lunch and Andromeda for dinner. She had been right in saying that his mother would have wanted them to know each other, and now that he really thought about it, he wanted that too.

His last letter was to Harry. He stared at the parchment for at least 20 minutes, unsure what to write. There was so much to say, and yet there were no appropriate words to say it. He finally put it aside, deciding that he could finish it later. He left the stack of completed letters on the table next to his breakfast dishes and made his way into the guest room to pack up the clothes. Now that he could afford clothes for himself, he didn't see the need to sell the beautiful pieces Pansy had made for him, and so he wrapped them all carefully in the garment bags they had come with. He wouldn't get much opportunity to wear them, and he was sure he'd have to ward his apartment very carefully to prevent his neighbours from stealing them, but it would be worth it to hold onto the beautiful memories (and it would make Pansy incredibly happy).

He brought everything out to the hall and was surprised to find that he already had replies to all his letters. The girls had all replied to his message, and his express owl had returned as well. Glancing at the clock, he realised he had about an hour before he was due at lunch. He grabbed the transfer form and signed it quickly before stepping into the floo and vanishing.

The afternoon was a whirlwind of activity. He was surprised to find that the old Malfoy vaults _did_ still exist, they were just empty. He quickly rectified that by submitting the transfer request, and after removing enough money for the day’s errands and setting a few other financial affairs in order, he made his way down the street to Ollivander’s. It was now owned by his niece, who barely seemed to know who Draco was and was happy enough to sell him a beautiful chestnut and unicorn hair wand. Brandishing this beauty, he walked into the small cafe that the girls had chosen for lunch.

“Ooh, is that your wand?” Luna asked excitedly as he sat down. He handed it over for her inspection, grinning at Pansy and Millicent, who were also giving the new tool curious looks.

“I thought I was supposed to buy your wand,” Millicent mused. “Where did you get the money for it?”

Draco couldn’t help grinning. “Harry paid me this morning. It’s been so long, I just had to get my wand.”

“That’s wonderful, Draco,” Luna said, handing his wand back. “Did you ask him for a good amount like we discussed yesterday?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” he started, only to be met by three identical groans.

“Draco, we told you to ask for nothing less than 400!” Pansy sighed.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I chickened out and only asked for three, which to be fair is still more than what I was initially going to ask for. But, he misunderstood me.”

“So did he not pay you?” Luna frowned. Draco shook his head, still smiling gleefully.

“Oh, he paid me alright. He paid me 300 _thousand_.” The girls’ eyes all widened comically; Pansy actually spat out her water.

“He what?” she shrieked.

“You heard me,” Draco said smugly.

“So lunch is on you then?” Millie smirked. Draco laughed outright at that.

“You bet it is,” he chuckled.

“And I’m guessing that also means you don’t want the potions job anymore?” she sighed, rolling her eyes when Draco shook his head.

“I appreciate the offer, Millie, and I do wish I could have worked with you. But potions isn’t my calling. It never has been.”

“Then what is?” Pansy asked curiously. Draco handed her the letter he’d received earlier.

“Dear Mr. Malfoy,” she read out loud. “Thank you for your letter. Your admission is still current with the Lucille Vincent School of Magico-Legal arts, and we would be delighted to offer you a space in our next semester, which starts Monday.”

“Oh, isn’t that the school in Paris?” Luna asked. “I’m quite sure Ron studied there.”

Draco nodded. “It’s very sudden; I was surprised that they would write on a Saturday, telling me to start on Monday. But they have student apartments right next to the school in which they’re offering me a small private room, and since I have the money now, I’d better do it.”

“Draco, that’s amazing,” Pansy said, handing the letter back. “It doesn’t give us a lot of time for goodbyes, though, if you start in two days.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to see you all today. Once we’re done here, I’m going to end the lease on my apartment, and I’m meeting Teddy and Andromeda for dinner. Then I’m on the first Portkey out tomorrow morning. I’ll do all my shopping tomorrow when I get to France, since no one knows me there and therefore won’t kick me out of the shops, but at least I won’t have to sell your beautiful outfits.”

She beamed at that, though her eyes were a little teary. As much as he loved Luna and Millie, it was Pansy who had always been his best friend, and he knew they were going to miss each other immensely.

“I promise to write regularly, now that I can afford parchment and ink,” he said, trying valiantly to lighten the bittersweet moment. “And now you all have an excuse for spontaneous trips to Paris.”

“You can count on that,” she said, leaning in to give him a hug. The conversation lightened up after that, and they enjoyed a wonderful lunch, though Draco and Pansy both got teary eyed again when it was time to say goodbye.

After leaving the girls, Draco made his way back to his apartment, where he took no small pleasure in telling his shady landlord that he was moving out, effective immediately. Millie, ever the rational thinker, had convinced him that he should stay at the Humdinger tonight. It didn’t make sense to take everything back to Knockturn Alley for one night, only to have to get out of there first thing in the morning. He packed up the ragged blankets, the worn out clothes, and the few meagre belongings he had, and promptly dropped them in a community donation bin out on Diagon Alley. He didn’t need them anymore.

Making a quick stop at Magorian’s Toy Emporium to buy Teddy a gift simply because he could, and a bottle of wine for his Aunt, he made his way down to the Leaky Cauldron and flooed to Andromeda’s place. He’d offered to take them to Teddy’s burger place, but she’d written back saying she didn’t want him to get into the habit of eating out so often, especially since he was going to stay with Harry next week and would probably be eating take-out every night.

His Aunt’s house looked nothing like the manor had, with its opulent décor and aristocratic features. It looked like an ordinary house, cosy and personal and with a surprising number of muggle touches. He belatedly remembered that her husband had been Muggle-born. He offered to help her out in the kitchen since she clearly didn’t have any elves, but was quickly shooed out into the hall to play with Teddy. Draco smiled when he found Teddy drawing pictures with the colour-changing markers Harry had given him earlier that week and readily accepted one of the markers. They chatted about the nonsensical things eight year olds liked to talk about while drawing pictures, and before long, Teddy was making up all kinds of games with the markers, such as cauldrons and wands (which he soon found out was really just a fancy way of saying x’s and o’s) and drawing competitions. Draco was surprised at how much fun he had engaging with his cousin and couldn’t help feeling a little guilty that he probably wouldn’t see the kid very much over the next two years.

Before he knew it, dinner was over, the kitchen was clean, Teddy was in bed, and he found himself sitting in the living room with his aunt, sipping on the wine he’d bought.

“Thank you for this,” she said, raising her glass toward him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a good wine. I never buy the nicer ones for myself because it’s so hard to find the opportunity to enjoy it when you’re raising a kid as energetic as Teddy.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he replied. “This one was one of mother’s favourites. I figured you would probably have similar tastes.”

“Because we’re sisters?” his aunt questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. “Have you met Bellatrix?”

“Yes, actually. Even lived with her for two years. Worst two years of my life.” He grimaced into his wine glass. “But I see your point.”

His aunt started laughing at that. “You think two years was bad? Try growing up with her for 17. Sirius and I probably spent half our childhoods protecting your mother from her. Bella loved picking on her youngest sister, and it wasn’t the normal teasing that went on between siblings. Bella was _vicious_ to Cissy. When I heard she’d moved into the manor, my heart went out to you both.”

“My mother was a strong woman,” Draco said softly. “I guess she just wasn’t strong enough.”

“She would be proud of you, Draco.”

Draco let out a bitter laugh. “Not with the way things have been going for the last seven years. No, I’m just glad she wasn’t here to witness it.”

“Whatever you’ve been doing, as long as you’ve kept your wits about you, and your head held high, she’d be happy. It was your father who sneered at working class people. Your mother just wanted you to be happy.”

Draco thought about that. The last seven years had been absolutely miserable, but after this week, things were looking up. He could honestly say he was on his way to being completely happy with his life. If that was really all his mother had wanted for him…

“I’m going to Paris tomorrow,” he blurted. Andromeda raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“For a vacation?” she inquired. Draco shook his head guiltily.

“For at least two years. I’m going to study business law. I’ve wanted to do it since I finished Hogwarts, but I haven’t been able to afford it.”

“But you can now?”

Draco nodded. He took another sip of his wine, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t ask how. That hope was dashed within seconds.

“Draco, you kept saying that your mother wouldn’t be proud of you, and that I wouldn’t want you in Teddy’s life… I hope you haven’t done anything illegal to get that money.”

Fuck. He couldn’t have her thinking that.

“I… no. Um, I got the money from Harry.”

Her expression softened immediately at the mention of Harry. For a moment, he allowed himself to miss the security of being so rich that no one ever questioned your actions.

“The two of you must have been dating longer than I thought if he’s paying for your education. I’m surprised it took this long for everyone to find out. Though I imagine he’ll miss you if you’re in France for the next two years.”

Draco bit his lip. He’d have to consider his words carefully.

“We’re not dating,” he said. It would probably cause some awkward moments for Harry if he went away for two years while everyone thought they were a couple. “I was, um, working for him this past week, and he paid me this morning.”

“But you were at all sorts of events as his date,” she pointed out.

Draco nodded. “He didn’t have anyone else to go with, so he asked me.” Thankfully she didn’t seem to put two and two together, and realise that being his date was the service that Harry had paid Draco for. Instead, she chose what might have been an even worse line of questioning.

“Draco, are you running away to France to avoid your feelings for him?”

He should have seen the question coming. But Draco was so caught off guard by the thought that he had _feelings_ for Harry that he sloshed his wine all over his beautiful peach shirt. Pansy was going to kill him.

“I don’t… that’s not… what?” he spluttered, pulling out his wand and trying the spell Mr. Finkley had used. He was very surprised when it actually worked.

“I’ll want that spell,” Andromeda said lightly. “If it can get rid of red wine, it can get rid of anything, and you won’t believe the messes Teddy tends to get himself into.”

“I’m not in love with Harry!” Draco spluttered, still stuck on the previous point.

“Of course not. You just happened to spend the whole week making moon eyes at him and standing up for him against his friends.”

“I... what? How did you know about that?

“I was talking to Hermione yesterday, and she mentioned your, erm, discussion. She’s been giving a lot of thought to what you said. Apparently Harry’s unhappy because he can’t go to a burger joint with Teddy?” she sounded equally confused and annoyed, but Draco didn’t back down this time.

“I don’t think any of you have bad intentions,” he said quickly. “From the little I know about him, I agree completely that he should be enjoying his money instead of feeling like he doesn’t deserve it. But that’s the thing; he doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. Did you know he’s terrified of heights, but because everyone pushed him to own the most expensive suite in London, every window of his shows him a dizzying 350 foot drop? You told him and Teddy three days ago that they couldn’t go to a restaurant they both wanted because it wasn’t expensive enough.”

“Billy Burgers is not a nice restaurant,” she pointed out. “It’s got hard plastic benches, is garishly coloured, and the food is cheap and greasy.”

“From what I’ve heard, it also has a play area for kids, and each burger comes with a little toy. It has enough space and is lively enough that they could move around and play with each other. At Harmony Table they had to sit still and speak softly, which to be honest they could do anywhere. It might be a lovely experience for people like us, but it was nothing special to them.”

She stared at him as he finished speaking, apparently considering what he was saying.

“So you’re saying I should send them to greasy burger joints all the time?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, I’m saying you should let them choose where they want to go and what they want to do. Within reason of course, but there’s no way Harry’s going to be able to spoil Teddy properly with salmon tartare and flambéed brussel sprouts.”

He was glad to get a chuckle out of her for that. He glanced at the clock on her mantle and was surprised to find how late it was.

“I’d better get going,” he said, putting his glass down and standing up. “I have a very early Portkey. But thank you for dinner, it was really nice getting to spend some time with you.”

His aunt put her own glass down and drew him into a tight hug.

“Have a safe trip, Draco,” she said as she released him and offered the urn of floo powder to him. “Make sure you write often.”

“I will,” he assured her, picking up a pinch of floo powder. He had just tossed it into the flames, and was about to step in, when she spoke up again.

“And for the love of Merlin, please tell Harry how you feel about him.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment his foot landed in the grate and he was swept into the flames. He emerged in the hotel lobby, coughing up a mouthful of ash. Thankfully, there was no one around to see his less than dignified entrance, but as he made his way upstairs and bid John goodnight, he couldn’t help thinking that his aunt really was a rather clever woman.

For the first time in ages, Draco fell asleep smiling.


	12. Paris

_ May 20, 2006 _

Harry,

I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to reply to you. I swore to myself that I would write as soon as I arrived in Paris, but things have been so crazy and I just got swept up in everything that was happening.

Yes, I'm in Paris! I finally accepted my offer of admission, thanks to your generosity. You do know that when I said 300, I meant 300 Galleons, and not 300 thousand Galleons, right? Either way, I really appreciate it, since the money allows me to pay for both years’ tuition fees and my apartment this year.

This past week has been such a whirlwind. The day you left, I set up an account with Gringotts, cancelled the lease on my apartment, registered for courses and booked an international Portkey, all between meeting the girls for lunch and Aunt Andromeda and Teddy for dinner.

And that was just day one! The next day I rushed all over Paris, brushing up on my French, trying to furnish my new apartment, getting my bearings for the school and meeting my new neighbours. They're all young kids, mostly fresh out of Beauxbatons — they were partying all night! — but they're a world better than my previous neighbours, so I'm not complaining.

Then there were the classes themselves. Merlin, I'm quite sure Hogwarts was never this intense, even under the reign of Lord Needs-a-nose. I've been studying non-stop for the last five days, which is why I decided I'd better take a break and write to you before the rat race starts again on Monday. I will admit though, I'm very much enjoying my studies. Coming here was absolutely the right decision.

Enough about me though, how are things with you? Andromeda told me that Teddy was spending the week with you. How did that go? Did you two finally get to go to Billy Burgers? Is he still there?

And how are you doing personally? Last I heard from you, there was a lot going on, what with Corner getting arrested and him outing you to the press. Yes, I read Skeeter's article, and I have to say I was surprised at how rude it was, even for that cow. I'm still not sure I understand what asexuality is, (I wasn't sure how much of that article I could trust, and there's barely been time to breathe this week let alone do extra research) but I know it can't possibly be as ridiculous as she makes it out to be. So you don't like having sex (I think?). I'm the same way. I used to enjoy it, but after seven years of charging London's worst for it, I'm quite sure I've been put off for life.

What really intrigued me was the fact that Corner was arrested for fraud. The article wasn't too clear, though from the little I gathered it sounded like a very elaborate scheme, and you were absolutely right to cut him off. I hope your business hasn't been affected too much by all the publicity (though I'm sure most of your clients and investors are cheering now that he's gone). My professor said that my mid-term project will be to recreate his trial as a class. I've asked if I could play either your part or that of the prosecutor. I'm sure it'll be very cathartic to convict his arse, even if it isn't actually him.

Well, I've clearly rambled on enough; it's time to get back to my textbooks (all together, they weigh more than me!).

Thank you again, for everything. I hope you're doing well, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Best,

Draco

  
  


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_ June 4, 2006 _

So that ABSOLUTE TWAT, Mr. Daniel Aaron Billington was given the part of prosecutor for the assignment. I was assigned to the Wizengamot (I jokingly asked the prof if I could reverse the decision for all the reparations I had to pay, and he actually laughed! I think he really likes me. It's been a long time since that happened) which isn't a terrible role, and from what I heard, the prosecutor needs to prepare a lot more than the members of the Wizengamot. The trial will be in two weeks, so I guess I got off easy. There's only two of us representing the Wizengamot (rather than the usual 157) since the class is so small, and the other student, Maria, is so shy, there's no way she'll want to be Chief Warlock. So at least I get to look the Corner-look-alike in the eye and cry "GUILTY" while banging a gavel. I look forward to it.

Okay, this was a short letter. I have exams coming up. Someone dared me to take them all while drunk, and I almost agreed. Almost.

Cheers,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ June 28, 2006 _

So I just got out of the mock trial, and I hate to say it did not go as smoothly as I expected it too (though everyone complimented me on the robes you bought me when I was in London). I’m still determined to hate Billington on principle, but his roommate (of course the two class aresholes live together), Leland Fen Brighton, might actually be worse. Scratch that, he IS worse.

To give you a bit of context, he was given the role of the defence attorney in the case, and he was HAPPY about it. Who the fuck would be happy to defend bloody Corner? But that wasn’t the worst part. Part of the project was to research laws and arguments and information to be able to use in the trial, and instead of finding a loophole or some evidence to prove that his client hadn’t done anything wrong, he decided that the best approach would be to slander your character. He started on a convoluted speech about your morality, questioning whether you were mentally stable enough to understand the decisions Michael’s character made. He was trying to insinuate that you had in fact signed the contracts, or agreed to the deals, or whatever. It almost sounded like he was paraphrasing Skeeter’s article. But as Chief Warlock, I had the gratifying power to Shut. It. Down. I stood up in all my grandeur and gave him the patented Malfoy glare. Thank Merlin that I have a strong memory, because I quoted a good chunk of that letter you sent me when I first moved here explaining your sexuality. I told him in no uncertain terms that your sexuality was in no way evidence relating to a case of financial fraud. I explained that asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction to other people, and that if his attraction to whoever he finds attractive doesn’t mean he automatically agreed to a fucked up deal that would screw him over, then neither does yours. He sat down looking quite abashed, and I think it should go without saying that he lost the case. My professor also commended me on doing a good job of keeping order and impartiality in the courtroom, so I’m expecting a very good mark.

Harry, what happened in that courtroom is one of the million reasons why your new project sounds incredible. You definitely strike me as a philanthropist, and I can't imagine a better use for your money. One would think that in the month since he's been arrested, you would have learned that Corner's opinion was usually a sour one. Him shutting down your dreams of hosting charity banquets and Quidditch matches to support LGBTQ+ teens was just his usual bullshit. Go for it. Not only will you make an incredible difference in the world, you'll also be setting a wonderful example for Teddy. Andromeda mentioned in her last letter that he thinks the world of you so he's bound to be watching your every move. Make some good ones.

I’ll do my best to do the same because that’s what your example inspires millions of people to do. I also want to apologize again for comparing your interest (or lack thereof) and feelings about sex with my aversion to it. I didn’t know better. But, never again. I hope to be a good ally moving forward, and a better person. Just like you.

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ July 31, 2006 _

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! After the gorgeous gift you sent me last month for my birthday, I knew I'd have to return the favour, but I couldn't for the life of me think how. What do you get the richest man in Europe for his birthday? I considered sending you a parcel full of adult magazines as a joke, but I wasn't quite sure if we're at that level of friendship yet. ;)

So instead I've teamed up with Teddy (and Andromeda). You shall receive your surprise tonight, and no, I will not tell you what it is. I only wish I could be there to see your face, but alas the semester is drawing to a close, and I have so many essays to write that I don't even want to know how many trees my class is killing with all the paper we're consuming. It was an odd adjustment from parchment at first, but once I found out how parchment is made, it was a no-brainer (that means it was an obvious choice — the slang these youngsters use these days), especially considering how much writing we do here. If you don't know how parchment is made, don't look it up, just make the switch to paper. Trust me.

In all the correspondence with Andromeda, she's been dropping a few hints about something we discussed right before I left. Namely, my feelings for you. I will admit that I had a crush on you through the majority of our school years, (who didn't?) but getting to know you during that week back in May definitely pushed it into something more, and it hasn't died with these letters we've been exchanging. I still write to Pansy, Luna, Millicent, Andromeda and Teddy, but it's your letters that I eagerly await at all hours of the morning, and that I think about all day in class. I know I'm being a lot bolder than I normally would be (I might be drunk, and these teenagers I live with may or may not be pressuring me to write this), but I can't help wondering if you could possibly feel the same way about me?

Merlin, I hope this confession isn't going to ruin our friendship. If you don't want anything (especially since any relationship between us would have to be long distance), I totally understand, but I do hope we can still remain friends.

Sorry if this letter smells of vodka; we just spilled the bottle all over the table. What a waste.

Yours,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ November 18, 2006 _

Yes, I'll be at Pansy, Luna and Millie's wedding next month. I've got to run, I'm late for a job interview, but yes, I'd love to stay with you for the weekend. Unfortunately, that's all we get in terms of a Christmas holiday (that's actually why Pansy picked this weekend. She insisted that I had to be there, and I'm so glad she did). My Portkey arrives on Friday morning at 9am. Will you pick me up?

Love,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ November 30, 2006 _

No, it's not a job in my field, just a retail position at the local grocer’s. I need to start saving some more money to cover next year's rent and living expenses; life in Paris is considerably more expensive than one would expect. Merlin, it was an awkward interview. Most of it went quite well, but then the manager asked me for someone to give a reference for me, and for the first time since moving to France, my only response was "ummm...". I let him assume that I was a spoiled kid living off of family money, which was why I had no work experience (it was better than telling him the truth!), but luckily he said he'd accept a reference from a professor. All my professors love me, so I'm sure the job is mine!

Yours and soon to be employed,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ January 2, 2007 _

I would start by saying Happy New Year, but I'll be honest, I'm a little annoyed.

Didn't I tell you I could support myself? Even though I didn't get the job with the grocer, I would have found something else. Did you have to go and ruin our lovely weekend by transferring me more money as soon as I left? You've already given me so much — I can't keep living off you forever.

Merlin, you're so infuriating sometimes. And no, this hasn't actually ruined my weekend, I'm just pouting. You do know that if I graduate with no work experience I'm never going to get a job, right?

Thank you, though, for a beautiful weekend. I'm so glad for the girls and was honoured to be Pansy's best man, but I will admit (not to any of them!) that the best part was the time I got to spend with you. My voice hurts just from all the talking; I think we might have said more in 48 hours than we did in almost a year's worth of letters. Merlin, I now hate having a long distance relationship. I miss you even more now that I know what a weekend with you is like.

I know you're busy, and we just saw each other, but will you come visit me in Paris? Soon?

I miss you. I think I already said that, but it can't hurt to remind you. I hope you miss me too.

Love,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ April 22, 2007 _

Fucking Billington. Did I tell you what that arse did today? He had the gall, nay, the audacity, to end winter semester with a blasted 98% average.

As if that wasn't bad enough, he's moping around trying to convince everyone else to show him some sympathy because he was "so close to a perfect score". Of course it's not working; we all know he's just doing it to show off his grade. He keeps pestering everyone else to share theirs, so just to piss him off, everyone told everyone else what they got, but he's been in the dark. He knows he topped the class and that I was second (that will forever irk me), but what he doesn't know is that I got a 97.45%, and if I butter up the right profs that will get rounded up to a 98 as well. Take that, wanker.

Just looked at the time, I actually am meeting a couple of professors for raclette tonight. I'll try to write more tomorrow. I just needed to vent before meeting these professors.

Until tomorrow,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ April 23, 2007 _

How do you just let me ramble on and on about fucking Daniel Aaron Billington when you're fucking dealing with everything on your own? Yes, I know that Michael's on trial for sexual assault, and I know that the victim in question was you. The problem is, it wasn't you who told me. I'm guessing you didn't say anything because you knew I would take a leave of absence from school and come be with you.

Dammit Harry, you have to let others be there for you too. The latest Prophet article said you provided Pensieve memories in a public courtroom, that the defence attorney was being incredibly rude to you, and that you left in tears at the end of the day. What did you do after that? Go home and spend the night wallowing alone in your enormous manor?

Clearly, I can't trust you to be on your own anymore. I'm taking a leave of absence anyway, even though Michael's already been convicted and sent to Azkaban for 84 years (I will admit, I cheered out loud at that part of the article). You've been so strong for so long, and I know you're going to be hurting right now. I refuse to let you suffer any longer. I'll probably arrive right after this owl, so leave the floo open.

Yes, I'm bringing macarons from Ladurée. You shouldn't even have to ask.

I'll be there in a few hours,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ August 3, 2007 _

Harry,

First of all, tell Weasley and Granger I said congratulations. A bit of advice — they told you she's pregnant because of how close you all are, but she probably doesn't want people to know until at least a couple of months in. Of course, I expect that you never keep secrets from me, but maybe try not to tell the whole world before they can. Don't look at me that way, I know you.

Did you come all the way out here for your birthday just so that Teddy couldn't organize another party for you? I'm not complaining; it was wonderful to see you again. But I know what it's like to miss you, and I wouldn't wish that on the poor boy. You'd better buy him a present to make up for it (I don't care if it's your birthday, he's the kid. This is common sense. It's a good thing you have me to teach you).

It's also been about a year since we decided to start our relationship. It's hard to tell since we're basically dating via owl correspondence. I'm not usually such a sentimental sap, but I did want to say, Happy Anniversary. It feels like my life has just gotten better and better since you became a part of it, and I'm not just saying that because of your money. That first week we spent together, it was the first time in ages that someone took a moment to stop and recognise that I was human too and to show a little bit of empathy. It was the first time since the start of the war that I dared to hope that things might be okay after all.

And since then, I've just been falling more and more in love with you every day. Your silly sense of humour and the carefree laugh that comes with it. Your attention to everyone around you and the way you're constantly trying to do the best you can for them. Your dedication to the things you love. The way you push yourself to always work hard and remain honest. That adorably relaxed face you make when you're comfortable and on the verge of falling asleep. These are the things I love about you.

Because yes. I love you. I love you so much, Harry Potter.

Don't you ever forget it.

Love,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ October 19, 2007 _

S o those two American students in our class decided to kick up a ruckus that the school should accommodate their holidays as well, and they came up with a whole petition to have thanksgiving weekend off (it's sometime at the end of November). Then the Canadian girl (she's such a sweetheart, honestly) pointed out that Canadian thanksgiving was last week (how do two neighbouring countries celebrate the same holiday a month and a half apart? She said it had something to do with it getting so brutally cold in Canada that there was no harvest left by November to be thankful for, so remind me never to go to that hellscape of a country) and that the school should accommodate that as well. Everyone was more willing to back her up than the Americans because a break in October makes so much more sense than a break right before Christmas.

In the end, the Dean picked a middle ground and decided to declare the first weekend of November off, which happens to be the 1st to the 4th. Basically, this is my roundabout way of telling you I'm coming back for Halloween. I'm going to skive off classes the day before (don't worry, I can catch up on whatever I missed by telling Billington he doesn't know the subject properly. He'll gladly tell me everything) to come be with you. I know you're going to insist that it's not necessary, and that you're fine. But I want to. I want to go with you to visit your parents, and I want to hold you in the evening as you sit morosely flipping through your photo album (isn't it scary how well I know you now?). Because I love you, and I want to do everything I can to comfort you and lessen the pain.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know you don't get to hear it enough, and I'm sorry for that. I love you.

Love,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ December 13, 2007 _

Christmas with all the Weasleys? I know I love you, but is this really what I have to do to prove it?

I'll agree on one condition: you must surrender your sweater to me. I guarantee Molly Weasley weaves some kind of charm into her knitting to make your sweaters so comfortable.

Are you picking me up from the station? I'll be there first thing in the morning.

Love,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ January 2, 2008 _

Harry,

I still maintain that Malfoys do not cry. We do not cry when we receive a patented Weasley sweater for Christmas, and we do not cry when our boyfriend Portkeys across the border to be able to kiss us at the turn of the year. We especially do not cry when said boyfriend has to leave for work the next morning.

We also don't cry when writing letters; that drop in the corner is coffee, and this letter is short because I'm busy. Just wanted to make that clear.

Love,

Draco

  
  


\-------------------------------------------

  
  


_ March 28, 2008 _

Harry,

You should have seen the look on Billington's face when I told him I was going to be working for Potter Inc. as head legal counsel. I thought he was going to explode. Apparently, he interviewed for the position too, and Ron's feedback when he didn't get it was that he had a bad attitude. Imagine that.

The rest of the class (heck, the rest of the school) wasn't surprised though. Apparently I never shut up about how wonderful my boyfriend is (I didn't think it was that bad until Evangeline pointed out that she could name every award you've ever received. What can I say? I'm very proud of you).

In all honesty, I'm looking forward to the end of the semester, when I can come back to England and start seeing you every single day. When I can have a long conversation with you without my hand cramping up. When we can go for kebabs whenever we want, without having to plan weeks ahead and buy Portkeys to do so. Basically, I can't wait to be with you.

I will forever spoil little Hugo for getting me this job. I'll admit, I never expected Ron to be the type to retire and become a stay-at-home dad, but then again it's a much more plausible option than expecting Hermione to do it. She might be the only person on the planet who works harder than you. But I'm getting off topic. I will spoil Hugo absolutely rotten as thanks for being born. You can warn your friends now. I guess I can include his sister too, since he's also staying home to care for her.

Harry. I'm coming home! I'm coming home, and I have a respectable job! I have an incredible boyfriend who spoils me rotten (have I ever told you how perfect you really are?) and I can sleep under a roof that doesn't leak (except when you and Teddy crash land into it during weekend Quidditch) and I can see my family regularly, and oh! I'm rambling, but you have no idea how happy I am. I can't wait!

Okay, I'd better get back to studying. Billington and I are neck-in-neck in terms of marks, and I'm determined to beat him this semester, if nothing else to prove that I earned this job and didn't just get it because my boyfriend owns the company (that wasn't why Ron picked me, was it?!?!). I'm going to make you proud, Harry, just you wait and see. I love you.

Love,

Draco


	13. Proud: An Epilogue

Draco stretched his neck as he let go of the Portkey and handed it to the station attendant. Hitching his bag back up onto his shoulder, he made his way out into the waiting area, looking around for a hint of the jet black bird's nest that had taken over his dreams the past few days. He was expecting Harry to be standing around reading something or the other for work, maybe a hoodie over his head to avoid the press, as he usually was when he came to pick Draco up. What he wasn't expecting was to see Harry in a beautifully cut suit, holding a giant bouquet of red roses and a Muggle helium balloon that said “Congratulations” on it. He broke into a wide smile as he noticed Draco and waved him over. It was then that it finally hit Draco that he'd never have to know the feeling of missing Harry again. This wonderful man was his, and the thought sent his heart soaring. Unable to contain the laughter that bubbled out of his throat or the tears in his eyes, Draco ran over to Harry's waiting arms.

"Congratulations, love," Harry said softly. "I'm so proud of you."

Draco couldn't help beaming at that. When was the last time anyone had been proud of him? As they left the station, hand in hand, Draco realised that it didn't matter. The past was the past; he just had to keep moving forward. It was a bit of a scary thought, but with Harry by his side, it was going to be wonderful. With Harry by his side, everything was going to be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece has been such an adventure to create, and I'm so glad with how it turned out and that I got to share it with you, dear reader! I hope you enjoyed your stay at the Humdinger as much as I did <3 
> 
> ~~If you enjoyed Harry and Draco's adventures, please check back after reveals for a bonus addition!~~ It's here! This work is actually part of a series, and you can now read the first part (along with art!), which actually inspired this work! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> ***
> 
> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  Creations are posted anonymously during the posting period. The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2019/works) on 15 June.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  Creations are posted anonymously during the posting period. The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2019/works) on 15 June.


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